


Always & Tomorrow

by Viretta91



Category: Legacies (TV 2018), The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alaric didn't burn Hope's stuff like an idiot, Alternate season two of Legacies, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Classic Mikaelson family chaos, Convoluted TVD magic logic, F/M, Hope becomes a full tribrid, Hope being supported and loved, Hope-Centric, Multi, Other, Resurrections, Super Squad goes to NOLA, The Necromancer F's stuff up, WIP, What I wish happened, sidelines Malivore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viretta91/pseuds/Viretta91
Summary: In sacrificing herself to Malivore, Hope Mikaelson drags not only Clarke with her but the Necromancer as well. This small change sets off a chain of events that will rock the Salvatore school to its core. When the Necromancer releases something he doesn't mean to, it's up to Hope and her friends to clean up his mess. The Mikaelson family is back... but their enemies don't want them to stay that way.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Davina Claire/Kol Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall & Hope Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall/Elijah Mikaelson, Hope Mikaelson & Alaric Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson & Josie Saltzman & Lizzie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson & Mikaelson Family, Keelin Malraux/Freya Mikaelson, Landon Kirby/Hope Mikaelson, Marcel Gerard/Rebekah Mikaelson, super squad - Relationship
Comments: 96
Kudos: 113





	1. Hope Has No Heartbeat Here

Hope is alone in the darkness of Malivore. It is black as pitch tar, thick. The darkness has no smell but is suffocating. It has no taste but is nauseating. She has never been afraid of the dark, but this… this darkness is terrifying. Every sense is a contradiction here. There is no up, no down, no right, no left. There is nothing and no one here but her and the two beings she has dragged down into this hell with her.  
This is a waking nightmare, solid as stone and steady as the blood in her veins. 

She thinks she is dead. This is her punishment for being an abomination of nature. 

Hope has no heartbeat here. 

“You are dead, you know,” the necromancer says when he strolls by her once a day. She thinks it is once a day, at least. Time has no meaning here either. All Hope does is sit on this little patch of darkness. She sits and she thinks. “Died as soon as you jumped into this pit. But nothing has any meaning here, so you’re not feeling the effects. Step back out into the real world, little one, and become the Tribid you were always meant to be.”

“If I could I would,” Hope tells him every day, or second, or eternity. “And I don’t believe you.” 

“Be it so,” the necromancer shrugs. “I think you’re making a mistake.” 

“I don’t trust you.” 

“I wouldn’t trust me either,” he’s always very sympathetic. “But there’s something you’re missing here. A part of the equation. See when you did that tricky little mimic spell to me and that Clarke fellow, and tossed me back in here, you unleashed a domino effect.” 

“And? What did that do?” 

“I’m not entirely sure,” he always says. He’s very vague like this— like the cryptic quest guide in storybooks. “All I know is someone is alive who shouldn’t be. My powers did… something. But you’ll never know what if you don’t leave.” 

“I can’t leave!” she’ll finally snap. He has to know that she would leave this torture in a heartbeat. But she doesn’t have a heartbeat. “But you can leave me alone.” 

“Fine, so be it,” he’ll raise his hands in defense and walk away into the endless fog of dark. Then he comes back in seconds, or hours, or an eternity. They will repeat this conversation word for word every time because time has no meaning here. 

Hope knows in her bones that she can’t be dead. It’s not possible. If she’s dead that means she’s triggered her vampire side, it means she can’t have children, it means she’s really a monster now. She refuses to believe it. 

She doesn’t dare even attempt to do magic because what if it’s all true, she’s dead, and she no longer can. 

“You should use your magic to get us out of here, Hope,” Clarke always shows up after the Necromancer leaves. Their conversations, however, are always different. He has been growing more and more adamant that she attempt magic to remove them from this hell. 

“For the thousandth time, there isn’t a cheap-trick spell for this,” Hope says, rubbing her temples. “I can’t just wave my hand and blip us out of here, buddy. And I certainly wouldn’t let you out.” 

“I need to get out of here!” he erupts. Hope flinches back, scrambling to her feet and holding out a hand defensively. This explosion of anger is unexpected and unwarranted. Clarke is suddenly pure rage, tense from head to toes. He is usually good at concealing his true emotions. “Look, I’m sorry, Hope, but you don’t get it. This is my nightmare. My worst nightmare. Just being stuck here— I need to get out and you can do that.”

“Why? So you can play daddy’s little helper again?” she crosses her arms. She’s had enough of this guy playing the sympathy card. He doesn’t answer. “That’s what I thought. Out of pure curiosity, what makes you so sure I can get us out of here?” 

“You can, darling,” the necromancer swaggers back out of the dark, hands in his pockets. This is new, both of them confronting her at the same time. “All it takes is quite literally a wave of your hand. Do any spell.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You just have to believe.” 

“Spare me the Peter Pan crap,” Hope turns to walk away and find another place of privacy. 

“Hope Mikaelson,” suddenly the Necromancer is in front of her, decaying, slimy grin filling up her vision. She flinches back and hits Clarke’s chest. “Stop being pathetic. Get us out of here. Even you couldn’t be so cruel as to condemn us to this! To condemn yourself to this!” 

“You’re toxic, Hope. Do any magic, and Malivore will eject you,” Clarke says. 

Hope sidesteps both of them so they are standing in a small circle. It must be a trick, they must be lying. They would never help her unless… unless this really is their only way out. They want to hitch a ride out with her. 

“There’s one flaw in your plan,” she says. “Two, actually. The first is that I would never let you come with me. Ever. You deserve this. At least until I can find a way to put you somewhere else where you can’t hurt anyone. The second is that you keep telling me I’m dead and bad news, but a witch loses her magic as soon as she goes vamp. We’re all stuck.”

“You’re wrong,” the Necromancer growls at her. “You’re the exception, Tribrid. I’d bet all my power and reputation that your werewolf gene will protect your witch gene once you’ve turned. Just like how your father’s werewolf gene protected his… well, procreation.” 

“That’s…” she was going to say ridiculous. “That actually makes sense. In some really weird convoluted way. Let me think.” 

“Let’s give the princess her space, mud-spawn,” the Necromancer leads Clarke away. They do not disappear into the darkness, just hover on the edges of what she can see, watching. They will not let her slip away so easily. 

Hope forces herself to turn away from them so her thoughts have space to breathe. 

Could she truly be dead? 

Is she no longer alive and bloody and mortal? Will she be frozen on the threshold of eighteen forever? Just like her Aunt Rebekah… 

The thought that she has triggered her vampire side is terrifying. The effects have not hit her yet, she still feels like her plain self. As soon as she magics herself out of this void— if that even works — she will be pummeled with the need to feed. Or… will she? She is so lost with this. She already has hybrid blood pumping through her veins. Could it be that as soon as she leaves this pit she will automatically have activated her vampire side, no feeding needed? 

Why does everything to do with her have to be so confusing? 

So that’s issue one, she decides. The next most important being that no one remembers she exists. She wonders if Landon has an unexplainable hole in his chest, down to the core. She wonders if he retraces old steps, laughs at odd thoughts, not quite knowing where they’re from. She wonders if Alaric burned her things as she asked or if he sits with the knowledge that she is missing. She wonders if Lizzie and Josie are fighting, or hugging, or missing her spot between them. She wonders if Marcel Gerard is pacing the halls of the Abattoir, peering into her bedroom, utterly confused. 

She thinks of Rebekah, unable to remember exactly what her dearest brothers sacrificed themselves for. Kol, Davina, Freya, Keelin, little Nik… she wonders if they are fine without her. 

That might be the scariest thought of all. 

Hope is not sure what would be better: if they all felt empty without her or if they never noticed the difference. Is it selfish of her to hope they notice her absence? 

All of a sudden it is not so easy to breathe anymore. She feels she is suffocating under the weight of all this blackness. She remembers what Lizzie told her to do when this happens: breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Hope repeats this several times in a last-ditch effort to calm herself. 

Yes, she decides. Damn the consequences unto herself, her friends and family still need her. How could she leave them all alone when she knows exactly how awful that feels? When she has a viable means to escape? 

But she will not take Clarke and the Necromancer with her. 

She’s not sure they’ve really thought through how they’d get out with her. Grab ahold of her like a portkey? Hope almost laughs at the thought. 

“Boys, I’m going to make you a promise,” Hope finally turns to them. “My promise is that I will get you out of here… but not right now. I’ll get you out when I can put you right into your own crowded little prison world so you’re not quite so lonely. You’re right, I’m not cruel enough to leave you here, but I’m also not stupid enough to take you with me when all you’re gonna do is cause problems.” 

“Hope, I can’t spend another second here!” Clarke pleads. Just her luck that the villains she kidnapped are the most inept and annoying on the planet. 

“Too bad, you tried to start the apocalypse by raising your mud daddy. Think of this as time out,” she smiles. Clarke scowls at her like a petulant child. 

“Hope,” the Necromancer doesn’t seem quite so upset. He knows she will stick to her promise, whatever it takes. “When you dragged me in here I unleashed something quite accidentally. I’m not sure what, but it’s tied to you. Tread lightly.” 

“Thank you,” she nods. With that, she mutters a spell under her breath. For a moment, a millisecond nothing happens. Her heart is pounding, terrified that this won’t work. Then a flame erupts in her palm, brilliantly illuminating the never-ending dark. Hope smiles in relief. 

A high pitched screeching fills her head and a bright white light shines upon her from up above. Hope stumbles as the ground roils underneath her. It’s working. The white light is shining from a portal that has opened above her head. She feels herself being lifted up into the air- 

Clarke bellows as he pummels into her, knocking her to the ground. 

“You take me or you don’t leave at all!” He wrestles with her on the ground. Hope grunts as she kicks him between the legs where it hurts and pushes her fiery palm to his shoulder. She is flying upward, kicking at Clarke’s last desperate grasp for salvation. 

The darkness cracks in two and she is lying face down on the stone-cold floor of Triad.


	2. Life Sucked Without You In It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope struggles with the violent aftermath of her decision to leave malivore. After returning to the Salvatore school, an unexpected guest arrives.

Hope is made of pain, every nerve, and bone on fire. It’s been two minutes, she thinks, or five. All she’s done is lie here, unable to move, wincing at the light, gasping for breath. She is shaking all over, maybe crying, struggling to stay conscious. She thinks she may be dying but no… she knows deep in her heart that this is not death. This is rebirth. 

She does cry, then. She weeps for her lost mortality. Hope knows she has finally become what she’s always dreaded: the tribrid, the loophole, the abomination. 

Hope manages to sit herself up, furiously wiping at her cheeks. Her gums hurt the most, that must be because her teeth are changing. The lights are too bright, every little sound is agonizing, colors are vivid and painful. How can anyone stand this? 

She feels angry and devastatingly sad and lonely and a million other emotions all dialed up to eleven. She feels like throwing up or howling at the moon or dancing or screaming. It’s an explosion of every sense, every part of her being. 

Above all else, though, Hope is hungry. No one has ever been turned like this. She is the first to be turned simply from her own blood. So, no feeding to complete the transition, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t starving. It’s disturbing, the rush and thrill she feels when she thinks of human flesh. She has to find food. 

_Blood_ , is the singular thought which pierces through her heart. Hope is so thirsty. Nothing else matters. She doesn’t care if no one remembers her, or if she has to get back to Salvatore, or if she still has magic. She just needs to drink. 

This primal, uncontrollable need gets her to her feet and walking. She stumbles like a newborn fawn, catching herself on walls and pillars. Triad is deserted, not a pulse in the compound. She has to break out of locked, boarded up doors to get out into fresh air. 

And _oh_ , is that intoxicating. The scent of fresh grass and starlight. The world has never looked so beautiful. Hope thinks she walks for miles in this gorgeous, night-lit earth. She stumbles along the side of the road, and no cars pass. She sees not a soul. 

At least two hours later- but she can’t keep track of time- she comes across a road stop. Hope can hear the pulses, smell the fresh blood from half a mile away. She knows she’s not herself right now. Somewhere deep down she is screaming and kicking at herself to stop this. This new Hope will not stop though, she can’t. 

She opens the door to the small bar. There are at least fourteen people inside, all adults. The bartender says something to her, asks if she’s ok. She can’t hear a thing over their steady, heady pulses. All thoughts of herself, of mortality, vanish from her mind. 

Afterward, Hope barely remembers the carnage. The ripping, the screaming, and clawing. The taste of iron on her tongue, thick and red, is all-consuming. She rips throats and breaks bones and smashes bottles and god she feels wonderful. She feels all-powerful. 

Then she sinks back into her body and finds herself standing, drenched in blood, surrounded by corpses. It’s a sound in the back of her throat at first that turns into a muffled yell. She clasps both hands over her mouth to keep in her horror. She scrunches both eyes closed to will her deed away. What has she done? 

Hope is shaking all over, violently heaving in breath. She’s slain these people like they were nothing. Like they did not have bleeding hearts and lives and people that loved them. 

“No, no, no,” she thinks she cries aloud. Hope desperately wishes that she could turn back time, get ahold of herself. She wants to scream. 

Hope really is her father’s daughter. He would be so disappointed in her. In the afterlife, she knows he is frowning down on her. Or up, she thinks wryly. 

She stumbles out of the bar and takes several more deep breaths to steady herself. She can’t stop crying as she makes it back to the highway. 

Hope walks, and she walks, and she walks, for hours. Cars whiz past and trees become blurs and still, she walks. Until the blood has dried, matted into her hair, coated under her nails, she walks. She walks until rays of sun come piercing through the trembling first light of dawn. Hope walks until she finds herself on the doorstep of the Salvatore school, in Mystic Falls. 

The spelled gates had let her in- had remembered her. These doors remember her too and open before her hand hits the knocker. How will she explain herself to these people? How will she explain herself: this bloodied tribrid stranger? 

There are no students in the halls, it’s only just seven in the morning, a clock tells her. She hears the clatter and chatter of voices coming from the dining hall. Hope is so tired she thinks she is going to pass out. Then it hits her again: the scent of fresh blood. 

Hope has to use a wall for support and take several more breaths to calm down. She cannot go on a murderous rampage. She turns and catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She looks absolutely horrifying. Every part of her is coated with dried, flaky blood. Her hair is wet with it. Her eyes are stuck in a glowing yellow, but the whites have turned black, and the veins are standing out from her cheeks. She looks like her father and mother when they were especially angry. 

Hope is staring at herself for so long, trying to will away her terrifying eyes, that she doesn’t notice the clatter and gasp to her right. 

“Hope?” A trembling voice asks. She turns, fangs bared to see… MG. He’s dropped his coffee, splattered on the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Is that your blood? Are you OK? Are you… oh my god, what happened to your eyes?” 

“You remember me?” Hope asks weakly. The sight of her friend brings her back to her body. She feels, just slightly, more like herself. She’s endlessly glad that the first person she ran into was a vampire. Otherwise, things could have gotten ugly fast. When she turns to the mirror again she sees her eyes have faded back to blue. 

“Yeah, dude! Alaric didn’t burn your stuff like an idiot. Once we pieced together the clues, Josie did a memory spell, and… anyways, yes I remember you,” he takes a hesitant step forward. “You’ve been gone for three weeks. We’ve been tearing spell books apart trying to find a way to get you back- wait… prove you’re Hope.” 

She turns slightly and pulls the shoulder off of her filthy shirt to reveal her crescent birthmark. 

“Oh my god, it is you,” MG sighs happily and lurches forward to wrap his arms around her. Hope is stiff for a moment, then slowly wraps her around him. It feels so good to be hugged. The weight of everything comes crashing down on her all at once and then she’s sobbing into his shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. We’re just so happy you’re back, Hope.” 

“It’s not ok, MG,” she chokes on her own breath. “I triggered my vampire side. I-I killed a lot of people.” 

He pushes her back slightly, holding her by the shoulders. 

“That’s what the eyes and the blood are about, then,” he licks his lips nervously. At least he looks empathetic instead of horrified. “I promise you, it’s gonna be OK. When I first turned, it was horrible and I can’t even imagine what that’s like for a hybrid.” 

“MG, I don’t trust myself to… be around people right now? Can you get Kaleb so you both can stop me if I try anything?” Hope asks. 

“I tell you what, why don’t you go to Alaric’s office and I’ll gather him and the super squad,” MG nods. “He’s in the dining hall right now, so he won’t be in danger. See you in five. I promise everything is gonna be alright. Landon’s gonna freak. Go.” 

Hope does as she is told and thankfully doesn’t run into anyone else. She makes it to Alaric’s empty office, sits herself down, and waits. Her feet are aching from her long walk, and she thinks if she shut her eyes she could fall asleep. 

Then she hears the pounding steps, the frantic breaths. The doors of Alaric’s office burst open and her friends spill in. 

“Hope, oh my god,” Landon, poor sweet Landon runs at her. Hope wants nothing more than to disappear into his arms but she forces herself to rise and press her back against the wall. He gets the message and stops short. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What’s all that blood?” 

“I…” Hope meets Alaric’s eye. They share a beat of silence, of shared understanding. He nods. “I triggered my vampire side. The blood isn’t mine. You shouldn’t come near me.” 

Lizzie and Josie gasp softly from the small sofa they have found seats on. Raf, MG, Kaleb, and Landon are all crowded by the door, staring at her with similar expressions of shock. 

“How?” Alaric asks solemnly. He takes a spot at his desk. It was a good choice because Hope is trying not to lick her lips at the scent of his blood. “Hey, hey, hey kill the eyes.” 

“I’m sorry,” she rasps and forces herself to stare at her feet. She must look horrifying with those glowing yellow irises. “Apparently I was dead as soon as I threw myself into Malivore. The effects only hit me once I got out.” 

“How did you get out?” Landon asks. His body is tense as if he is forcibly stopping himself from going toward her. 

Hope explains the whole story. How the Necromancer and Clarke teamed up to attack her, the mimic spell, the time alone in the dark. Her promise to get them out somehow. Then, very hesitantly, she tells them of turning, of the people she murdered. 

“And that’s not the worst part,” she says. “The Necromancer told me that when I pulled him in his powers unleashed something tied to me, but he doesn’t know what. I can think of a few dead creatures tied to me that would be … very, very bad if resurrected.” 

“Who? Just curious?” Lizzie asks with a wince-grin on her face. 

“Worst case scenario?” Hope shrugs. “Esther, my crazy witch grandma who literally created vampires with magic. Dahlia, her crazy witch sister who tried to kidnap me as a baby. Or Mikael, my crazy grandpa who eats other vampires for dinner and tortures his children for fun. Or maybe the Necromancer resurrected my father’s enemies, and that’s an inexhaustible list.” 

“Or…” Kaleb says hesitantly. “He resurrected your father himself?” 

Hope actually has to pause for a moment. Her heart soars up into her throat at the thought. She refuses to get her wishes up. 

“Why don’t we table that and come back to it when it’s a problem,” Alaric holds up a hand. “I’ve never had a newly transitioned tribrid before. What do you need?” 

“You should lock me up in the basement,” Hope nods. “Transition me to rabbit blood. But first… I would really appreciate some more of the real stuff.” 

“Hope, you know I don’t keep human stashes on school grounds.” 

“But you do keep humans,” Landon says. “She can drink some of my blood.” 

“And mine,” Josie nods. 

“Absolutely not,” Alaric shakes his head. “It would set a precedent and-“

“Oh, just let her drink their damn blood,” Kaleb says. “No ones gonna care, this is extenuating circumstances.” 

“You can use me as a blood bag too,” Raf nods. 

“No!” she and Alaric yell at the same time. Hope glances over at him before continuing. “My bite kills werewolves now, but thank you.” 

“Good to know,” Raf scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.   
“  
Well, sorry, Hope, but I’m not being anyone’s blood bag, however much I love you,” Lizzie bats her lashes and puts a hand over her heart. Hope snorts. 

“Alright, that’s settled,” Alaric sighs. “Welcome back, Hope, we missed you doesn’t cover it.” 

“I missed you too,” Hope says, meeting everyone’s eyes. “I mean… I don’t usually like to be this sappy but being alone like that really puts things in perspective. I’m sorry if I shut any of you out. I’m really lucky to have you.” 

“I would give you the biggest hug right now if you weren’t… you know, a blood-crazy hybrid,” Lizzie waves a hand abstractly. “I’m glad Malivore thawed your heart.”

“We should throw Alyssa Cheng in there!” Kaleb laughs. 

“Ok, ok, that’s enough,” Alaric holds up a hand. “I have a school to run, and I’m sure you all have homework. Hope, if you’re not going to go blood-crazy, Josie and Landon can take you down to the cellar.” 

“You mean the dungeon,” Lizzie frowns. 

“Ok, Liz, that’s enough of you. Enough of all of you. Get!” Alaric shoos them. Hope is feeling better, already slightly more used to being around others and hearing their pulses. She has some semblance of control. “And Hope…I’m really glad you’re OK. Don’t scare me like that again, kiddo.” 

“Thanks, Alaric,” she musters a smile. “I’ll try my best.” 

She leaves his office framed on either side by the two people she has missed the most. It takes all of her self control not to hug at least one of them. 

“Are you sure you’re OK?” Landon asks. He’s like a hovering mother-hen. “I mean, you don’t have to lie to me, I’m just worried. You’re still, y’know, covered in blood.” 

“Oh really?” Hope asks wryly. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Hope,” Josie frowns. “It was pretty horrible without you around.” 

“I heard you did the memory spell. Thank you.” 

“You’d do the same for me.” 

Hope is so lucky to have friends like these. 

The dungeon, as Lizzie lovingly called it, is thankfully empty. She locks herself in a cell and drinks from both of their wrists, allowing just four sips from each. 

“That tickles,” Landon laughs when she drinks from him. “Also, you look really hot with the glowy eyes.” 

“Ok, then, I’m gonna go to class,” Josie fights a grin. “Give you two some privacy. I’m so glad you’re back, Hope.” 

Hope feels her cheeks heat as she watches her friend disappear around the corner. 

“Sorry,” Landon winces. 

“Don’t you have class too?” 

“Class doesn’t matter as much as you.” 

Hope shakes her head fondly. 

“You know in the pit I had a lot of time to think,” she says. “A lot of it was about you. I was scared I would never see you again.” 

“I didn’t forget you,” he presses his forehead to hers as much as he can while they’re separated by bars. “I mean I felt this emptiness. We figured everything out pretty quickly but in the beginning, I kept going out to the lake and letting myself drown. Right before everything would go dark I’d see your eyes, or your lips, or your hands. Then I’d wake up in a fiery explosion.” 

“Landon… you shouldn’t keep killing yourself like that. I don’t think it's good for you,” she sighs. “But that is… morbidly romantic.” 

“Can you imagine how crazy we’d sound if a muggle heard this conversation?” 

“A _muggle_?” Hope laughs. 

“I don’t know what else to call them.” 

“Not that.” 

There is a beat of happy quiet, in which all they do is stare at each other. Hope is once again amazed that anyone could look at her with such familiarity and love. 

“Life sucked without you in it,” Landon says. “I love you, Hope.” 

She’s heard the words before but still, they jar her to the core. Hope’s stomach flutters and happy adrenaline fizzes through her veins.   
“I love you too,” it’s so easy to say. It feels so natural when it’s him. 

There is a moment where they are smiling, completely at ease. 

And then the screaming starts. 

Hope lurches back from the bars anxiously trying to listen for any signs as to what is happening above. Footsteps pound hard against wood floors, names are shouted, ‘Run!’ is yelled. 

“Uhm,” Landon points anxiously at the ceiling. “Would it be terrible if we ignored that?” 

“Probably,” Hope sighs. “Let me out.” 

He unlocks her cell door and hurries after her. They take the cellar stairs two at a time, bursting out into the first-floor hall. Students are running frantically in every direction. 

“What’s going on?!” Hope grabs a second-year girl with blonde pigtails. 

“Dr. Saltzman told us to run to the field,” she cries before continuing her mad sprint for escape. 

“What the hell is happening,” Hope clenches her teeth. She smells something foul coming from the entry den and hurries in that direction. 

“Why do you always have to go the opposite way everyone is running?” Landon grabs her hand to keep up with her. 

“Because I’m me,” she turns through the archway of the den to find most of the upper school body assembled, most holding stakes. They’re all crowded on one side of the room, Alaric in front holding out his crossbow. Josie and Lizzie hold hands behind him, chanting a spell, blue magic is gathering in their palms. 

Hope is prepared to be greeted with their newest monster of the week. 

She’s prepared for a sphinx, or mummy, or even a rogue werewolf. 

She is not prepared for the wicked sight before her. A sight that strikes terror through her, icy cold filling up her stomach. 

Mikael, the worst of all monsters, the fear of mankind, her grandfather, is standing there in all his glory. 

His head snaps to hers as soon as she enters the room. 

“Hello, granddaughter. It’s about time we met.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment down below :-)


	3. You Really Are Your Father's Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope faces her father's worst fear. In the aftermath, she is left to piece herself together and plan her next steps.

Hope is in front of Alaric, arms splayed as a shield. She’s used her vampire speed, somehow, but right now that does not matter. Right now all that matters is keeping Mikael from murdering her friends.

He looks just as the stories have described. As a child, her family had refused to speak of him. Most of them anyways. Her mother was always willing to speak of her few encounters with ‘the monster that other monsters are afraid of’. She had painted a vivid, and starkly accurate portrait of him. 

It comes down to the sharp hook of his nose, the flat, dead shark eyes, the deep frown lines. This is a creature who has long forgotten how to smile. This is a creature who bathes himself in blood and has etched the trials of his many years into his own flesh. From a distance, he may even look unassuming. 

This close, though, everything in her body is screaming at her to run. 

“So you are the abomination’s progeny,” he growls. Hope takes a deep breath to steady herself. 

“Guess we should’ve talked about this before it became a problem, huh?” Kaleb hisses from somewhere behind her. ‘Shh!’, Landon snarls. 

“You need to leave, Mikael,” Alaric raises his crossbow higher. “You are not welcome here. This is a school.” 

“And what would a mere man do to stop me?” Mikael’s voice is low and rough like it’s been shredded over hot coals. 

“He may not be able to, but I can,” Hope says. The full weight of Mikael’s gaze upon her is a terrifying thing. His eyes are almost black, devoid of any light. 

“I thought Niklaus would be my greatest shame,” he says. “My greatest regret that I did not strangle him as an infant, but allowed him to grow into the beast he was. I heard he died for you and took my noble son with him. No, no, I now realize my greatest regret was that I did not succeed in murdering you and your whore mother whilst I could.” 

“Jesus Christ,” MG scoffs. “And I thought my family was bad.” 

“Everyone except my elite team, leave now,” Alaric yells suddenly. “Unless you want to stay and fight.” 

Most of the terrified high school student body rushes out as fast as they can, leaving just the Super Squad and a few upperclassmen stragglers. 

“How are you alive? My family killed you,” Hope asks. She is trying desperately to keep up this semblance of calm. She thinks he can smell her fear. 

“I awoke in a field in Kansas,” he says. “I do not remember the afterlife or anything else about why I was resurrected. Nevertheless, I was, and I intend to be your doom. I will rid the world of your stench, Tribrid.” 

“Alaric,” Hope whispers as quietly as she can. “Do you have that prison world ascendant handy? We can’t kill him without a white oak stake, which doesn’t exist anymore.” 

“You don’t know that,” Alaric hisses. He hastily hands her a plain wooden stake. “The lunar cycle isn’t in the right spot to put him in a prison world. Just try the old fashioned stake?” 

“Plotting my death already?” Mikael spits every word. “You really are your father’s daughter. You are a perversion of nature, and a slut just like your rotten mother.” 

“You’ll have to get more creative with your insults, Mikael, you sound like a broken record,” Hope says. “Why not take this second chance at life and use it to do a bit of good in your horrible existence? You can still choose to leave, to live a quiet life. Stop _hunting_ your family.” 

“No, Niklaus was never my family!” He roars. “You are not my family. You are monsters! Devil’s spawn! Whatever sickness resided inside of your father now resides in you. I can see his evil in your eyes. If I have been brought back for a purpose it is to rid the world of his line once and for all.” 

“And who created that evil?!” Hope yells right back. She is suddenly overcome with a wave of pure, white-hot rage. More than she has ever felt. She knows her new vampire side is heightening her emotions, but god, she wants to tear this man apart. “My father was a good man! You beat him, and chased him, and tortured him. If he had evil in him it came from you.” 

“A monster,” Mikael gasps, taken aback by the sight of her. Hope knows those wicked eyes of hers must be back. “I am called the ‘monster that other monsters fear’ but you, oh _you_... you know I have never been afraid of another creature before. But I will admit the mere sight of you strikes terror into me. What a horror, you are.” 

“If I am a horror, it is because you and your wife were so desperate for immortality that you created monsters.” 

“No!” Mikael roars once more but this time he comes forward. In a flash of vampire speed, he is standing not five inches from her. Hope flinches back but stands her ground. She is face to face with her father’s worst fear. “We were desperate to _protect_ our children. We loved our children. We did not know that our spell would contaminate them. How was our action worse than your family taking in the Hollow to save you from death? Any parent would do the same as us.” 

“You did not love all your children,” Hope says. Her heart is pounding in her chest. 

“Niklaus was not my child,” Mikael snarls. It is just them now, the rest of the room is deadly silent. All else in Hope’s thought or vision has disappeared. “He was pathetic and weak. He was a fool, he still saw the good in the world. Well, there is no good. There are just people like me, and people like him and you. You are just as weak, just as pathetic. Do you think you can protect your friends from me? I will rip their hearts out and eat them and make you watch until you beg for mercy. Then I will string you up and torture you, just as I did your miserable daddy.” 

Hope snaps. Or maybe she explodes. 

The lights blow out in a flash of sparks and glass, the windows shatter. The ground shakes, the wind howls. There is nothing holding her back as she raises her arm to strike Mikael through his rotten, shriveled, black heart. 

He catches her wrist, and suddenly they are a blur of motion. She is slammed into walls, she throws him at the ceiling, punches are dodged and objects are thrown. This is a deadly fight of vampire speed, not letting up for a second. If one of them makes a wrong move it will be over. Hope screams with pure rage and blasts him with fire out of her palms. 

“Is that the best you can do?!” he taunts. 

Distantly, very distantly, she hears people calling her name. The whole world is shaking in answer to her wrath. Dust falls from the ceiling, and ancient artifacts tumble off the walls. 

Mikael is grinning at her, mouth bloody from where he bit her. 

She is going to kill him. 

Mikael rips off a piece of wood paneling from the walls and throws it at her with all of his strength. It pierces through her middle, pinning her to the opposite wall. Hope screams in agony, gasping for breath. The pain is almost unbearable. She’s dropped her stake somewhere across the room. 

Then he is in front of her again, and he grasps her chin in his calloused hand and forces her to look at him. 

“You are _nothing_ ,” he growls. 

With all of her strength, Hope drives her fist through his chest and rips out his heart. For a moment he is stunned, choking on his own astonishment. It looks as he is about to laugh at her because something as simple as this could not kill the infamous Mikael. Then the blood comes bubbling out of his mouth, and all of a sudden he realizes that he has met his doom. 

“This is for my father,” Hope raises his rotten heart to her lips and bites it. Mikael sways in place, horrified. Mouth still bloody, she grins at him. “Die knowing that he will live on through me.” 

With that, Mikael falls to the ground, slain at last. 

There is silence in the world for several beats, calm. The pain in her stomach registers slowly, and then all at once. The heart falls from her slack hand as she beholds the wood spearing her to the wall. Adrenaline is making her shake all over. She’s done it, she killed Mikael. 

Something like relief washes over her as she eyes his greying corpse. Hope knows she has done her father proud. 

“Hope?” Alaric’s terrified voice. 

_Alaric_. No, it can’t be. Hope can’t even bring herself to look at her friends. What had they just witnessed? She had completely forgotten of their presence. 

Slowly, slowly, tortuously she brings herself to turn her head. There are her friends, cowering behind the overturned couches, staring at her with wide, horrified eyes. Even Landon looks afraid of her. 

‘I’m sorry’, she almost says. She even opens her mouth to say it but it doesn’t get out. She’s not sorry. She’s protected her family, how could she be sorry for that? 

No one says anything. It’s horrible. All they do is stare at her, like that. Terrified of her. Do they not understand that she has slain the beast? 

“Hope,” Alaric tries again. He rises first, slowly coming toward her. Hope wants to cry when she sees he has not fully lowered his crossbow. “Calm down. Can you do that for me? Breathe.” 

“I am calm,” it comes out more like a whimper. Hope groans at the pain that comes from speaking. Her hands fumble on the wood poking through her middle, slick with her blood. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“How am I looking at you?” he keeps taking these careful, measured steps toward her. 

“Like I’m a monster,” she sniffles. “I’m not a monster, Alaric. I just… I did it. I killed him. Just help me… help me get this out.” 

Hope is crying now, hot tears running down her cheeks. It has been so long since she faced the full horror of the Mikaelsons. The full toxic, gnawing darkness. No one here understands her family. She’s sure they think of them as almost cartoon villains, the stuff of myth and legend. Now the sight of Mikael has ripped away their innocence. _This_ is the truth of the Mikaelson family, this violence. Mikael dead on the floor, Hope speared to the wall. 

Then Alaric’s cool hand is on her shoulder and he’s dropped his crossbow. 

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be alright,” he says. “Just breathe. On the count of three, I’m going to pull this out, okay?” 

“Mhm,” Hope purses her lips shut and braces herself. 

“One, two, three…” 

Hope doubles over and screams as he wrenches the wood from her middle. She feels her skin and organs knitting back together as she claws at Alaric’s jacket for support. As soon as she can breathe again she falls forward into his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

“It’s OK. I mean… It’s not OK, but I understand,” he nods against the top of her head. “And hey, you saved us all.” 

Hope forces herself to pull back and stand by herself. Then, she forces herself to turn to her friends, who have gathered around. Landon is closest, looking at her with glassy, sad eyes. 

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” Hope says. Her throat is tight and hot and words hurt. “I never wanted…I’m just sorry. I got carried away.” 

“No,” Lizzie says. She has a long red gash along her cheek. Hope wonders if she did that, somewhere in all the commotion. “Don’t ever apologize for defending us. I’m sorry for ever making jokes about your family.” 

“Me too,” Kaleb says. “That was pretty badass.” 

“So badass,” Raf agrees. 

“OK,” Alaric interrupts. “I need to go find the rest of the student body and clean up… uh, this mess. Landon, why don’t you take Hope to her room. We can all have a team meeting after dinner and decide how to proceed.” 

They all nod and begin to shuffle off quietly. Josie gives Mikael’s body one last kick before leaving. 

Getting upstairs is all a blur. Landon’s hand is on her back and he’s saying soft things, and she doesn’t register any of it. When she comes to again she’s sitting on the edge of the tub and Landon is wiping the blood off her face with a warm towel. 

“There you are,” he says gently. “I was worried there, for a sec.” 

“I haven’t scared you off yet?” 

“No. Never, Hope. Never,” he shakes his head. “I was scared _for_ you, but never of you. That was some serious crap.” 

“Welcome to the family,” she tries to smile, but it doesn’t work. “I’d heard stories about how awful he was but… Landon, they didn’t come close. I can’t even imagine the things he did to my father.” 

“I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could fight off all the bad guys for you.” 

“That was my fight,” Hope nods. “I’ve just never felt that angry before. I was scared of myself. This has been the shittiest day.” 

“Tell me about it,” Landon wipes her forehead with the towel. “But hey, at least I got to see you again.” 

Hope presses a kiss to the hand hovering near her face. Landon melts, shifting closer to her so he can brush the hair out of her face. 

“I guess I’m just scared that that wasn’t the end of it. I mean the Necromancer told me he had accidentally resurrected someone but… what if it wasn’t just Mikael? What if my _dad_ is alive again, Landon?” 

“That would be amazing, but… if he was, don't you think he would have shown up here? Stopped Mikael? I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.” 

“I mean, maybe, but what if they showed up in that field in Kansas at the same time? What if Mikael somehow incapacitated my dad? Think about it… how would he have known about the Salvatore school? What made him come here?” Hope says, thinking aloud. “But he couldn’t have killed my dad because then he would have been less cocky with me. If he had known he’s not invincible anymore, I mean.” 

“Hope, you don’t even know if your dad was resurrected.” 

“I know that,” she sighs. “I guess it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Hope sighs and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He returns the hug, leaning up to hold her. 

“I’m confused about a lot right now, but… not you,” she says. 

“Who knew you were sappy?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“Never,” he kisses her, and just for a moment, everything feels alright. 

***

“OK, team. What do we want to do next?” Alaric asks later that day, after dinner. The Super Squad is sprawled out across his office, all looking quite grim. Hope is feeling much better, despite the day’s events. She is already getting a hold of her new heightened senses and drank her weight in rabbit's blood earlier. 

“Well, let’s get the facts straight,” MG says. “The Necromancer resurrected Mikael accidentally when Hope threw him into Malivore. Side note, I have a hard time believing it was accidental. Mikael seemed to be himself, not a mind-controlled zombie, _but_ wasn’t invincible like an Original anymore. Is that all right?” 

Hope nods. 

“What makes you think he resurrected more of your family?” Kaleb asks. 

“I don’t know,” Hope says. “Maybe it’s a fool's hope, maybe it’s an instinct. My father was pretty much the deadliest supernatural creature in history. If the Necromancer was going to resurrect someone heavily tied to me who could also wreak havoc, I can’t think of a better option.” 

“After dealing with the Mikaelson brothers I’d argue that Elijah was worse,” Alaric says. “Now that’s a guy who could do some real destruction. Klaus was hard outside, soft inside. Elijah was the opposite.” 

“Or there’s your mother,” Josie says. “I mean I remember when I was little just thinking how powerful she looked. Let’s say the Necromancer did all this on purpose and lied to you. Wouldn’t it be savvy of him to resurrect a powerful hybrid who was not only tied to the Mikaelsons but also had people’s trust? If his plan was to resurrect your family and mind-control them later… well, you see what I mean.” 

“Or… all three?” Lizzie asks from the couch. Hope’s heart is in her throat now. “I mean, think about it. If the Necromancer really did do this on purpose because I can’t imagine him doing it accidentally, then this was his last card he got to play before falling into Malivore. He probably put out all the stops.” 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Hope rubs her temples. “What do we do, Alaric?” 

Alaric is quiet for a long moment, mouth pursed as he thinks. 

“I think we should go to New Orleans,” he finally nods. “Not all of us, just a few. If the Necromancer really did resurrect Mikaelsons that’s going to have serious ramifications. And, if they didn’t come here…” 

“They went to NOLA,” Hope nods. “Alaric, if they really have been brought back… I won’t be able to kill them if they turn into murder-puppets. I hope you know that. You have to promise you’ll help me do everything in my power to find a way to keep them alive.” 

“I can promise that,” Alaric says. “We’ll leave at first light tomorrow. Who’s coming with me?” 

Everyone raises their hands. 

“Guys,” Hope stands to better address them all. “I appreciate your support, but it would be dangerous to bring you all as a group. New Orleans isn’t like Mystic Falls. This is… easy, and simple, and things make sense. Here there are good guys and bad guys. New Orleans is a free for all. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to one of you.” 

“Let’s do this,” Alaric holds up a hand. “Lizzie, Josie, and Landon will come. The rest of you will hold down the fort here with Dorian unless I need to call you for backup. We don’t even know if we have something to worry about yet, it’s not worth endangering my entire team.” 

“C’mon, Dr. S,” Kaleb groans. “New Orleans is every young vamp’s dream. Talk about real-world experience.” 

“I know that, and I’m sorry,” Alaric says. “Think of it like this. You boys will be defending Salvatore from any and all monsters while we’re gone.” 

“But you promise you’ll call us for backup?” Raf asks. 

“I promise.” 

“Well, I think that settles it,” Lizzie claps her hands. “Now, If y’all don’t mind I need some beauty sleep before I face the Mikaelsons.” 

“I’ll see you upstairs,” Landon gives her hand a squeeze before leaving with the others. Hope and Alaric are left alone. 

“Thank you for this,” she tells him. 

“This is my job, Hope.” 

“Just out of curiosity… why Landon?” 

“Because I knew I’d never hear the end of it if we left him behind. Anyways, it’s about time that boy met your family. I think he needs a good scaring.” 

Hope rubs her hands together nervously. For a moment the only sound is the clock ticking on the wall. 

“I’m scared for what we might find,” she says finally. 

“Me too, Hope. But you know what? We’ll face it together.” 

“Together," she agrees. 

That night Hope dreams of jazz music, chandeliers, and the beauty of New Orleans. She dreams of her father. He holds her hand and tells her, ‘Always and forever, Love’. 

This time, she believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment down below :-)


	4. If It is a Dream, I Hope It's a Good One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and Co. embark on a long road trip to New Orleans. On the way, they pick up a ghost from the past.

When Hope finally gets a chance to check her phone after three weeks in Malivore, she’s smushed between Lizzie and Josie in the back of Alaric’s van. They’d departed Salvatore fifteen minutes ago at six AM on the dot. Landon is in the front with Alaric, anxiously trying to change the radio station from some misogynistic rap song. 

Hope has 246 messages and calls from various family members, all in the last week. Apparently, when Josie had performed her memory spell it had restored her to her family’s minds as well. Freya’s messages plead her to call, Marcel’s anxiously ask what happened, Kol’s say dramatic things like ‘if you’re dead I’ll kill you’. She doesn’t even dare dive into the voice messages. 

Hope decides to call the only family member who won’t freak out and coddle her, and tells everyone else to shush. 

The phone rings just once before the line connects. 

“Hope?!” Davina Claire asks groggily from the other end. She must have woken her up. “What the hell- Kol wake up, it’s Hope. Hope, what’s going on?”

“Hi Auntie D,” Hope can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice. “It’s a really long story. There was this evil mud pit, and I got erased from people’s memories, but I’m back now and… and I’m OK.” 

She doesn’t know how to tell her family that she has triggered her vampire side. She supposed she’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it.   
“I’m relieved to hear it,” Davina sighs. 

“D, tell my niece I’m going to murder her,” says a muffled voice in the background. Hope smiles fully at the sound of her uncle’s voice. “You’re a dead woman, Little Witch.” 

“Hello to you too, Kol,” she laughs. 

“I’m honestly offended. Why did you call Davina and not me?” 

“Because she did,” Davina’s voice gets louder as if she’s wrenched the phone back. “Speaking of, why _did_ you call me? I doubt it was just to give an update on your well-being.” 

“No, you’re right,” she swallows thickly. “Look it’s hard to explain but there’s this Necromancer who doesn’t like me and I think he may have resurrected… my parents.” 

“You’re not joking?” 

“It wouldn’t be a funny joke. Mikael paid me a visit at school yesterday.” 

“ _What_?!” Kol has wrenched the phone back. “And you’re not dead?” 

“No, I killed him.” 

“Then it must have not really been him. Dear old daddy could only be killed by-“

“The white oak stake, I know, but it _was_ him. He wasn’t being controlled either, it was Mikael, in flesh and mind. Only difference was he wasn’t practically invincible anymore.” 

“Holy shite,” Kol swears. “D, can you wake everyone, please? I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be a long day.” 

“Are you in New Orleans?” Hope asks. 

“Yeah, the whole crew is here. We were trying to figure out what the hell was happening with you. At least we’ve got that problem solved.” 

“Well, me and a few friends are headed that way,” she says. Josie shoots her a supportive smile. “We figured we’d investigate for ourselves.” 

“Really? You haven’t been home since… well, you know.” 

Her parent’s and uncle’s deaths, he means. It’s true, she has not been able to step foot inside the Abattoir since it happened. She had withdrawn from her family, unable to call herself a Mikaelson in her grief. 

“Well, this is a family problem. Plus, uh… I did something bad, and I don’t really know how to handle it, and I think you’re all going to freak out about it.”   
Landon turns from the passenger seat and gives her a small smile in support. It gives her the boost of courage she needs. 

“Well, that’s horribly ominous.” 

“Can you promise not to tell the others? At least not until I get there?” 

“I always keep your secrets, darling.” 

“Ok, then… I triggered my vampire side,” the words tumble out fast, like ripping off a bandaid. “And I’m sorry if I disappointed you all, or, I don’t even know what. I’m just sorry. But I’m a bit of a mess and you should be prepared for that.” 

“Oh, darling, you could never disappoint me, stop that,” Kol says. “I love you, and I want to kill whoever killed you.” 

“You can’t exactly kill an evil mud pit.” 

“That sounds like a story for later. Listen, Hope, don’t beat yourself up. I can’t wait to see you and meet your little friends. Then, we can deal with my possibly resurrected brother, OK? We’ll take it step by step. I need to go now unless you want Rebekah to charge in here to steal my phone and yell at you.” 

“I love you. Tell Rebekah I can’t wait to see her.” 

“I will. Bye-bye, Little Witch. See you tonight.” 

Hope feels just a little lighter when the call disconnects. 

“So, they haven’t seen anything strange,” she tells the rest of the car. “But at least now they know we’re coming.” 

“It’s so weird to hear you talk to the people I’ve been learning about in class,” Landon says. 

“Yeah, they’re not that exciting,” Hope shrugs. 

“I always did think Kol was the cutest,” Lizzie sighs. 

“Ew!” 

“What? It’s true.” 

“Lizzie, I would definitely not say that to his face,” Alaric says from the front. “Speaking of, Non-Mikaelsons, do not go sticking your nose in Mikaelson business when you don’t need to. Do not speak unless spoken to. Just… be careful.” 

Hope ruffles with annoyance. She knows damn well that her family are not saints and that they’ve hurt Alaric before, but that’s not all they are. 

“Don’t be worried, they’re not going to hurt children. Or you, Alaric. You can start off on a good foot by giving them the benefit of the doubt,” she says.   
Alaric opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. 

After that, the day seems to go by in a blur. Landon and Josie have a sing-off at eight AM, belting Taylor Swift songs at each other. Lizzie plays a one-sided ‘punch buggy, no punching’ at Hope. Hope spills her gallon-sized foam Subway cup of rabbit blood when Alaric breaks too sharp at an intersection. Josie throws up in said cup several miles later. They get lunch at Panera and Hope eats two full-sized mac and cheeses. They sing ‘99 bottles of beer on the wall’ until Josie throws up a second time. Landon tells them all John Mulaney jokes for six miles straight like they haven’t already heard them. It’s… nice. 

It’s at five PM, still several hours from New Orleans, just when people are starting to groan about dinner, that they pass the walking corpse.   
Hope is barely paying attention when it happens. There’s been a lull in conversation, a pop song sings dully from the radio. Lizzie is asleep against the window, Landon drifting off, and Josie humming something under her breath. Hope herself is about to shut her eyes when she sees the man limping on the roadside next to them on the empty highway. 

She doesn’t even see his face. Something inside her just tells her to yell, “Stop!” 

Alaric slams on the breaks and they lurch to a halt. The others jolt out of their sleepy stupors, looking around for threats. 

“What? What is it?!” Alaric shouts, reaching for his gun. 

Hope can’t even answer. She scrambles to undo her seatbelt and crawls over Josie’s lap to exit the car. A blast of cool, end-of-summer air hits her. She squints at the man down the road, barely registering the others exiting the vehicle. 

He is covered in blood. His white collared shirt is shredded, but he is not injured. He is missing one shoe, his hair has lost its gel. His tie hangs in tatters against his chest. 

Still, there is no mistaking that it is Elijah Mikaelson.

Beside her, Alaric is too stunned to even raise his weapon. 

Elijah stares at her blankly, brows drawn slightly in confusion or astonishment. He takes one limping step forward. 

“Hope?” he rasps. “Is that really you?” 

Hope’s heart is in her throat as she moves closer to him until just three feet stand between them. She feels as if she is walking through a dream, or waking nightmare. This cannot be real. The sight of him alive, breathing, real, is almost more than she can bear. 

“Uncle Elijah.” It’s more a statement than a question. “Oh my god.” 

Her voice cracks in two and she flings herself at him. He returns her embrace very slowly, and Hope feels that he is trembling all over. She leans back to get a better look at him. 

“Do you know why I’m alive?” He asks. Then his almost panicked expression shifts to one of wonder. “Look how big you are. You look just like your mother.” 

What to say to the man who died for you? Hope can suddenly think of nothing adequate to answer with. 

“It’s been a while,” she finally settles on. “A little over two years, actually. Elijah, I’m… I’m so sorry you had to die for me.” 

“No, no,” he presses a hand to her cheek. “Do not feel guilty, it was my own choice. I died for my brother, and for my family. I will never regret that. Please tell me you did not bring me back because of guilt?” 

“No, I didn’t bring you back,” she shakes her head. “But first Mikael showed up, and now you’re here, and I don’t know what to do. I pissed off this Necromancer and now I think he’s tormenting me with you. Please, tell me… wherever you woke up, were my parents with you?” 

Hope searches his face desperately for an answer. She is not sure whether ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would be more agonizing. Part of her wants to freeze time right here so she doesn’t have to deal with the repercussions of whatever his answer is. 

“Yes,” he says. 

The words echo in her head, ricocheting off of every part of her. Hope is too stunned to move or speak for quite a few seconds. Her thoughts are made of pure static, white noise. 

“ _Yes?_ ” It comes out as barely a gust of air. 

Yes, yes, yes. Yes, her parents were with him. Yes, her parents have been resurrected. Her parents are back. _Yes_. 

“Where are they? I have to find them. Oh my god,” she’s hyperventilating. Every part of her feels like it’s been shocked with adrenaline. “They’re back?” 

“Yes,” Elijah is smiling softly at her utter astonishment. “We all awoke in this field in Kansas, with my father. He injured us, we barely got away. Then we were kidnapped by a vampire pack on the way to New Orleans. We all escaped at different times and simply agreed we’d meet back in Louisiana.” 

“As charming as this reunion is,” Alaric interrupts, stepping forward. “We should get a move on we’re getting very strange looks from passers-by. The blood isn’t exactly helping.” 

“Hello, Alaric,” her uncle says stiffly. 

“... Hello, Elijah. Care to hitch a ride back with us?” 

“Great, let’s just put the zombie hitchhiker in the back with us!” Lizzie smiles sarcastically. 

Josie and Lizzie are forced to move into the way-back third row of seats. Hope and her uncle take the middle, and Landon keeps his spot as passenger.   
The comfortable energy they’d had before has completely disintegrated. Everyone is tense, trying their best not to stare at the undead Original. 

“How have you been, Hope? Since everything?” are the first words he says. It’s a miracle that he still manages to look put together, even covered in grime and blood. 

Hope is still reeling over the news that her parents have been resurrected. Over the fact that her uncle is sitting before her. She’s not sure how to react except for blank shock. There isn’t exactly a textbook for this. 

“I’ve been… good,” she says stiffly. She can’t seem to stop staring at him, waiting for him to disappear. “How have you been?” 

“Dead.” 

“Oh.” 

Some rock song suddenly comes blaring on the radio and Landon starts slamming his hand on every button in reach to turn it off.   
“...sorry,” he winces. Hope would laugh if her world wasn’t falling apart. 

“Pardon my rudeness, introduce me to your friends, Hope,” Elijah says, somewhat amused by Landon’s antics. 

“Well you know Alaric,” Hope says. “And behind us are Josie and Lizzie Saltzman, his and Caroline’s daughters. Josie is the brunette. Then, that’s Landon… my, uh. He’s my boyfriend.” 

“Ah, yes, the townie,” Elijah says. “I remember you from just before I died. You and Hope danced and she destroyed that boy’s car who was cruel to you. Do be careful around Niklaus, he has an awful temper.” 

“The devil,” Alaric says between fake coughs. 

“Alaric,” Hope snaps. “Please shut up?” 

He throws her raised brows over his shoulder. 

“That’s one detention for you, Miss Mikaelson.” 

“Alaric, I trust my niece has been a perfect angel in my absence?” Elijah asks. 

Lizzie actually snorts from the back seat. 

“That’s one way to put it,” he says. 

Hope is smiling despite herself. She’d forgotten Elijah’s dry, monotone humor. 

“Elijah,” she turns to him, lowering her voice. Everyone will hear their conversation anyways, but she is desperate for some privacy. Hope places one hand on top of his over the seat rest. “How were my parents?” 

“We were all very confused,” he turns to her as much as he can and places his other hand atop hers. “It was chaotic… but I think they were as alright as I am. None of us remembered the afterlife. It was like waking up from a long sleep, suddenly aware of the world again. Niklaus did throw a monstrous fit, though.” 

“Sounds like him,” Hope chokes up. She doesn’t want to cry again. She’s spent the last two days on a weepy knife’s edge, always ready to burst into tears. “And you don’t know if they’re okay?” 

“We barely escaped from Mikael, then were kidnapped by vampires as I said,” Elijah nods. “I don’t think they knew who we were, but we had trespassed on their territory. I escaped first, and I’m confident Klaus and Hayley got out soon after. I don’t think any run of the mill vampire could take one of them down.” 

“About that,” Hope laughs nervously. “I told you Mikael showed up at the Salvatore School? Well, I was able to kill him by just tearing his heart out. I don’t think you’re invincible anymore. The other issue is that this Necromancer who brought you back has the power to mind-control the people he raises. I don’t know if he can do that now, though, because I left him to rot in a sentient mud pit prison.” 

Elijah’s face becomes more and more horrified as Hope speaks until his mouth is hanging open slightly and his brows are drawn. 

“You killed Mikael?” he croaks. “Mikael went to the Salvatore School and tried to murder you?” 

“Yep,” Hope nods. “That about sums it up.” 

“If I could I would raise him again just to murder him all over.” 

“I think you’re missing the two other important parts.” 

“Yes, I am no longer invincible and I can be turned into a puppet at the pleasure of a necromancer. How lovely. Hope, I don’t know-” 

He freezes, his face going blank. 

“What?” she asks anxiously. “What is it?” 

Slowly, almost like he doesn’t want to know the answer, the hands around hers move to feel her pulse. Her pulse, which has slowed down to the beat of a vampire’s. He sucks in a shuddering breath. 

“Who killed you?” his voice has gone low and deadly. The whites of his eyes become tinged with red, and black veins stand out from his cheeks. “Where are they?” 

“Woah, woah, woah!” Alaric shouts. “I will throw you out of this car!” 

Alaric slams on the breaks and everyone starts yelling.

“Everyone shut up,” Elijah growls, not taking his eyes off Hope. “Who did this to you?” 

“Elijah, please calm down,” Hope sighs. “No one did this to me. I did this to me.” 

“... You killed yourself?” his eyes fade back to normal and his face seems to crumble. 

“No, I sacrificed myself for my friends,” she corrects. “I’m not suicidal. I just… it’s a really long, complicated story. I threw myself into this evil mud pit, Malivore, and it erased me from the world’s memory briefly. It also killed me. When I got out I had triggered my vamp side.” 

Elijah sighs heavily and clenches his jaw. He seems to force himself to release his death grip on her wrist. 

“Elijah, I swear to god, if you pull that crap again I’m making you walk to New Orleans,” Alaric says. “Do not do that near my daughters.” 

“Understood,” Elijah says stiffly. “My apologies.” 

Her uncle goes to straighten his shredded tie, then realize it’s useless. Slowly Alaric eases them back onto the highway. There are several more minutes then, of uncomfortable silence where Hope is at a loss for what to say. 

If this is how her uncle reacted, how is her dad going to react? 

Her dad… 

She’s going to see her dad. 

She’s going to see her _mom_. 

The thought makes her want to cry but she tells herself now to be strong. She can break down later. 

“So, that was a great, super constructive conversation,” Lizzie says after a while. “Is dinner still on the table?” 

They end up getting McDonald’s because it's the closest drive-thru. It’s genuinely hilarious watching Elijah grimace at chicken McNuggets. Josie tries and fails to make them sound appetizing by explaining how they’re made. 

Very slowly things start to feel almost normal. The sight of her uncle next to her begins to feel as if it is not a shock. It’s almost like he’s always been here, like he never left. 

Hope desperately wishes that he won’t leave again. 

It's close to 10 PM and they’re fifteen minutes away from the Abattoir. Lizzie, Josie, and Landon are all snoring softly. Alaric has been silent for miles. 

It’s then that her uncle turns to her and asks softly, “Tell me how you really are?” 

Hope blows out a long stream of air. Where to start? She really can’t cry again. 

“Not great, if I’m honest,” she whispers as quietly as she can. “Losing you… was beyond awful. For a while, it felt like I was just going through the motions. I stayed with Kol and Davina for months before they forced me to go back to school. Still, it was so hard to feel OK. I haven’t been home since…”

“What changed? You seem better.” 

“I made friends,” she nods. She eyes the twins, leaning on each other’s shoulders in the back seat. Then Landon, head crooked at an awkward angle, smiling in his sleep. “That was enough.” 

“I’m proud of you,” he says. “Your parents will be even more proud.” 

“It doesn’t feel real,” Hope feels the heat of tears building up again. “I feel like I’m going to open my eyes and wake up and this all will have been a dream.” 

“If it is a dream, I hope it’s a good one.” 

“Me too,” Hope wipes at her eyes. “Now, though, with my vampire side triggered… I just haven’t been feeling like myself. Mikael told me I really was my father’s daughter. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” 

“I think it’s a mistake to blame the ugly parts of yourself on others,” Elijah says. “Those ugly parts do not come from your father or your mother. You are your own person, Hope. Don’t feel like you have to outrun your parent’s mistakes.” 

Hope sits and digests that for a moment, trying to get it to sink in. 

“Thank you, I think I needed to hear that.” 

“If I’m being honest I’m nervous about seeing my family,” he tells her. “We will brave it together, yes?” 

“Always,” she nods. 

Minutes later the car rolls to a stop outside of the Abattoir, in the middle of New Orleans. Lights all around glow, there are musicians playing jazz on corners, couples have dinner on tiered balconies. It feels like home. 

It takes several minutes to get everyone awake and out of the car. Josie looks like she could fall asleep standing. 

“Alright, everyone,” Alaric says. “Into the lion’s den.”

“Hope,” Landon comes to her side and whispers. “I love you. You’ve got this.”

Hope doesn’t care that her uncle is glaring at them as she leans up to kiss him. 

“I’ve got this,” she agrees. 

Hope turns to Elijah and holds out a hand. 

“Come on. Let’s see our family.” 

Together, they make their way inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment down below :-). Thank you so much for your support so far.


	5. Welcome to the French Quarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope reunites with her family. After a disturbing nightmare, Hope and Co. embark into the bayou to find her parents.

The archway of the house is cast in warm candlelight. Their steps echo off the stone steps. The Mikaelson crest is engraved in stone against the red brick walls. Vines and fairy lights wrap around railings and balconies, extending up to the open night sky. 

Hope takes a shuddering breath and basks in the beautiful silence of home. Her chest has a heavy weight to it, and it is getting hard to breathe. She feels that at any moment she will shatter on the ground. Elijah clasps her hand tighter and leans over to press a kiss to the top of her head. Hope squeezes her eyes shut and wills herself to wake up now if this is a dream. She opens them again and finds that this is reality. 

Her heart feels as though it will burst. She turns to Elijah and grins. 

“We’re home!” Hope shouts into the night. 

“Little Mikaelson!” comes an elated yell, and all of a sudden she is swept off of her feet and spun around by a blur of vampire speed. Hope laughs, feeling as light as a child in Marcel Gerard’s arms. She holds on as tight as she can. Above them, the night sky is made up of spinning stars. 

He sets her down and holds her face in his big hands. He’s about to say something when he notices Elijah. Marcel’s hands fall slack at his sides and he stumbles backward. He looks as if he has seen a ghost. 

“Hello, Marcellus,” Elijah says. He looks more fragile than Hope has ever seen him, even after her mother’s death. 

“Elijah?” comes a voice from the top of the stairs. Rebekah is standing there, looking ethereal as ever, but like she is about to fall over. She takes several shuddering breaths and comes forward slowly. From one of the lower archways, Kol, Davina, Freya, and Keelin come out. Keelin has Little Nik balanced on her hip. All of them look like they have been hit by a truck as they stare at their dead brother. “Oh, god.” 

Rebekah runs at her brother and embraces him with all of her strength. Elijah grasps onto her like he is drowning, and buries his face in her shoulder. Kol comes over to wrap his arms around both of them, and Freya is fast to follow. 

“Hi, Hopey,” Davina is suddenly beside her, hugging her. “I missed you so much.” 

“It feels so good to be back,” she tells her. She remembers what Alaric said to her when she returned. “I missed you doesn’t cover it.” 

“How is this happening?” Marcel turns to them, still shell-shocked. “This is because of the Necromancer Kol mentioned, right? Should we be running and screaming?” 

“Not yet,” Hope says. 

“Does this mean Klaus is back?” Davina asks. She doesn’t look particularly happy about it, either. 

“Yeah,” Hope’s voice cracks, but she refuses to cry. “Elijah said he’s back too. And mom.” 

“Oh,” Davina says and tries to muster up a smile. Then, her attention fixes behind Hope’s shoulder. “And who are these?” 

Hope had nearly forgotten, again, that her friends are there with her. All four of them are standing on the sidelines looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“This is Dr. Alaric Saltzman, my headmaster, his two daughters Josie and Lizzie, and that’s Landon, my boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?” Davina smiles genuinely. “Well, Landon, you must be pretty special to have won my niece's heart.” 

“He is,” Hope winks back at Landon, who looks down bashfully. 

“We’re here to help Hope and make sure this family doesn’t start another apocalypse,” Alaric says. 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” Marcel grimaces. “It’s nice to meet you all. Welcome to the French Quarter.” 

Hope turns her attention back to the Original siblings, who have devolved into a snotty, teary mess. Kol and Freya have moved to stand back but Rebekah doesn’t look like she’s letting go of Elijah anytime soon. 

“Have you turned into a koala in my absence, sister?” Elijah laughs, voice muffled in Rebekah’s sweater. 

“Oh shut up, you bastard. I hate you,” she kicks him in the shin. “But I also love you very much.” 

“Hope, darling, did you think you could hide all the way over there?” Kol is a blubbering mess when he comes over and gives her a giant hug. He’s using her as a snot rag, but she can’t bring herself to care. “Why the hell didn’t you call and say my dead big brother was about to waltz in?” 

“A lot was going on,” Hope laughs into his shoulder. 

“Open your mouth, show me the fangs,” he bares his sharp teeth at her and tries to pry her jaw open with his hands. Hope smacks him away. 

“Kol! Shh!” 

“Who’s your favorite uncle?” He smiles innocently. Hope shrugs demurely. “I feel so betrayed.” 

Hope spends the next ten minutes being hugged. Freya gives her slobbery kisses on both cheeks, Keelin gets Little Nik to say ‘hi’ in his cute toddler voice. He’s gotten so big. 

Once the ‘Elijah is back’ surprise fades a bit, Hope reintroduces everyone. 

“Boyfriend?” Kol smirks when she gets to Landon. The poor guy looks like he wants to disappear. 

“Yes, sir,” he laughs nervously and jerkily sticks out a hand to shake. Kol shakes it and gives him a pat on the back. 

“I hope you know I’ll be interrogating you later,” her uncle says through gritted teeth. 

“Kol!” Hope pushes him back lightly and takes Landon’s hand in hers. Surrounded on all sides by people she loves, Hope feels like she could just about burst. It’s just starting to hit her how much she’s missed her family. 

“And what kind of creature are you, Landon?” Freya asks. 

Hope and Landon immediately turn to each other with wide eyes, they both open their mouths but neither of them knows exactly what to say. 

“Uhm-” 

“He’s-” 

“I’m-”

“It’s really complicated,” Hope finally says. 

“I’m a phoenix,” he winces as he says it. “And my father is an evil mud pit? That killed Hope?” 

“Oh, Jesus,” Hope swears under her breath. Her family’s faces are dumbstruck for a moment and then everyone starts talking at once. Hope holds up her hands for quiet. “Yes! I’m dead. I triggered my vampire side. Can we by any chance… table that?” 

“Why don’t we all move upstairs? Get you all settled in?” Marcel asks after a long beat. “We obviously have a lot to talk about.” 

“Most pressingly, what we’re doing about Klaus and Hayley,” Elijah says. “They should have been back by now. We’ll have to go out searching for them.” 

“Actually, guys,” Alaric interrupts. “My kids have gone through a lot today. Especially Hope. I don’t want them running on a Mikaelson schedule.” 

“Hope is a Mikaelson,” Rebekah crosses her arms. 

“Well, for the past two years I’ve been her guardian, and she’s had an overwhelming week,” he says. Many of her family members don’t seem to take kindly to this assertion. 

“ _She_ is standing right here,” Hope says. “But Alaric is right. Sleep would be nice, I think I’m about to pass out, actually. We can go hunting for ghosts in the morning.” 

“Alright,” Marcel nods. “I’ll help you kids get settled in the guest rooms. Can someone guard Elijah at all times in case he goes crazy?” 

“I will,” Rebekah volunteers. 

After that, they all begin to peel off. Hope knows the adults in her family will be up for hours plotting and talking, but she is too emotionally drained to participate. 

“Let me get that for you,” Landon takes her bags from her outside of the car. He bumps her shoulder as they walk back in and up to her room. Lizzie and Josie are not far behind, talking among themselves. “How are you doing?” 

“Honestly?” she says. “I feel better than I have in years, and I’m terrified it’s going to stop any second. I mean the Hollow is gone, Marcel and Rebekah rule New Orleans, Freya and Keelin have a baby, Kol and Davina traipse around the world. Things are _good_. But… they weren’t great for me. And now my parents and uncle are back, and I just have this feeling like it’s all gonna go bad again. And, now I’m rambling.’ 

“Can you guys go be sappy and depressed not in the middle of a staircase?” Lizzie asks from two steps below them. “Which way is your room, Hope?” 

“To the left, end of the hall,” Hope blushes, tugging Landon up onto the balcony and between two stone pillars. “The girls are rooming with me.” 

“I wish I was rooming with you,” Landon pecks her on the lips. “I get to room with _Alaric_.”

“My uncles would literally murder you if we slept in the same bed,” Hope laughs. 

“Then I’m terrified of what your dad will do to me for breathing in your direction.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry, actually,” she says. “He’ll see what a good guy you are. And that I love you. I mean I know he’s _Klaus Mikaelson_ but… I don’t know, I guess I just can’t imagine anyone not liking you.”   
“  
Aw,” he has this look on his face. His eyes have gotten all glowy and his smile is radiant. It looks like he feels like his heart is going to burst too. “I’m so happy you get to see your family again.” 

“I’m actually really scared,” she leans closer to him to whisper. She doesn’t know why she lowers her voice then… maybe she doesn’t want the world to hear and rip everything she wishes for away. “Losing my parents was the worst thing that ever happened to me. And now they’re back. What if they don’t stay that way?” 

Landon seems to think for a moment, then brings his hands up to frame her face. 

“Then you’ll still have me,” he says finally. “And the rest of your family, who love you to pieces. And you’ll be OK, and you’ll keep going. I know it’s terrifying, but it won’t break you.” 

Hope bumps her nose against his. She can hear clinking champagne glasses somewhere down below, happy voices saluting to Elijah’s return. There’s the hustle and bustle and music of New Orleans outside, and Lizzie and Josie arguing about the direction of a fitted sheet. The world is noisy and buoyant and beautiful but right here, between her and Landon, is quiet. How lovely it is to be able to revel in silence, a calm haven in the eye of a storm. 

“Good night, Landon,” she smiles. “Thank you for being the best.” 

“Ditto,” he grins down at her. He turns and looks out into the hallway, peering in both directions. When he sees the coast is clear, he presses her up against the wall and kisses her until she’s breathless. “Go to sleep, Hope. We can save the world in the morning.” 

They repeat ‘good night’ and ‘I love you’ so many times as they’re trying to part that an outside observer would probably snap one of their necks. 

When Hope finally makes it to her room she can’t stop smiling. She shuts the door with her back and leans against it, just breathing in the night. 

“Well, you are bright red,” Lizzie laughs. She and Josie are already in their pajamas and in Hope’s bed. They’ve left a sliver of space in the middle between them. It’s so strange to see her childhood bedroom again, just as she left it. “You and Landon are sickening.” 

“She means cute,” Josie translates. 

Hope actually giggles as she sheds off her clothes and digs through her suitcase to find pajamas. As soon as she’s brushed her teeth and braided her hair she flings herself into bed with them and magics out the lights. 

There are several minutes of elbow-jabs, complaints of cold feet, and blanket tugging before they’re all settled in. Hope ends up with one of Josie’s arms over her middle and Lizzie’s leg over hers. 

After a few moments of quiet, she says, “I love you guys.” 

“Who are you and what have you done with Hope Mikaelson?” Josie whisper-laughs. 

“I don’t say it enough, and it’s true.” 

It’s also because she is feeling light as a feather, drunk on her own elation. She is sure this feeling won't last, and anxiety bubbles just under her skin, but for this moment she is happy. Tomorrow she will find her parents and be in their arms again. She knows it. 

“Hope…” Lizzie says softly on her other side. “I’m really sorry for ever giving you a hard time about your family. Can you forgive me?” 

“You’re already forgiven,” Hope says. 

It’s amazing, she thinks, how much brighter life is when she doesn’t feel lonely. 

Hope dreams of gnarled roots, the smell of mud. It’s thick on her tongue, worms pull at her skin. Spanish moss dangles up, high above, blocking out the last dying shreds of sunlight. _I have to find Hope_ , she thinks. It’s a singular, all-consuming thought. She is being dragged, pulled across the earth. Pain blooms from every part of her body. _This shouldn’t be possible. Why am I so weak?_ She tries to fight back but the urge to sleep is overpowering. She has to fight back, she has to fight back. She has to find Hope. Red hot pain spreads across her skull- 

Hope jolts out of bed, clawing at her throat and gasping for breath. 

It takes her several minutes to catch her bearings and blink the sleep out of her eyes. It is early morning, her clock tells her. Rays of sunlight are just beginning to filter through her curtains. On either side, Lizzie and Josie are still fast asleep. 

Something is very wrong. 

She feels this wrongness underneath her skin, a buzzy current setting her on edge. The house is too quiet, the wind is too loud. 

Hope gets out of bed as quickly as she can and wrenches on a pair of jeans and a green cardigan. She barely runs a brush through her hair before she’s taking the stairs two at a time towards the lower level. 

It’s still very early, and the only voices are coming from the kitchen. She speeds that way, practically running through the open archway. 

Inside Marcel is cooking an omelet for Landon, who’s sitting at the breakfast bar. She interrupts them mid-laugh when she enters. 

“We need to go,” Hope’s heart is pounding so hard that it’s almost at human-speed. She doesn’t stop moving as she opens the refrigerator and tears open a blood pack for herself. The real stuff goes down so much better than rabbit blood. She’s going to need her strength. 

“Slow down, kid, what’s wrong?” Marcel has turned off the flame and is hanging up his apron. “Talk to me.” 

“I dreamt I was being dragged through the bayou, and everything hurt and— I think I was looking through my dad’s eyes, okay?” she stammers out. Her hands are shaking, everything is moving too fast. “And he’s in trouble. So, _we need to go_. Now.” 

“I’ll wake the others,” Marcel nods. 

“We can’t wait for that!” Hope wants to scream. Up above the lights flicker and a window cracks. She takes a deep breath to steady herself. “Please, let’s go?” 

“...Ok,” Marcel says. “Landon, you coming with?”

“He’s coming,” Hope says. Landon smiles gratefully. 

The three of them rush to Marcel’s car, which is parked just outside the manor. He guns his foot on the gas and weaves recklessly through the city streets, blowing past stop signs. 

“What exactly did you see?” Marcel asks. His whole body is tense, ready to fight. 

“I told you, it was vague, but it was like I was looking through his eyes. He was hurt and in danger,” Hope wants to cry. The back window of the car blows out in an explosion of glass. 

“Woah! Keep a hold on that magic, kid, it’s not going to help anything right now.” 

“Hope, look at me,” Landon gets her to turn from her spot in the passenger's seat and look back at him. Hope does what Lizzie told her to do, breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. She forces the world to narrow down to just Landon’s eyes. “You can handle this.” 

“I don’t know if I can,” there it is. That’s what she doesn’t want to admit. This might be too much even for the mighty Hope Mikaelson. 

“Well, you have to. And you’re going to,” he says. “And we have your back.” 

It’s exactly the tough love she needs. Hope nods once, resolutely, and turns her eyes forward again. Her father needs her. She will not let him down. 

They screech to a stop on the border of the bayou forest several tense minutes later. Hope almost rips the car door off in her haste to get out.   
She runs into the mouth of the forest, sprinting with Marcel and Landon at her heels. 

“Hope, where are we going?” Marcel asks, panting. 

She stops in her tracks, spinning in a circle to look for any clues as to where her father was taken. She can catch no scent, or see any signs of disturbance. The forest stands still and wicked and noble as ever. It will offer her no sign, no clue, no aid. 

Hope lets out a yell of frustration and kicks a tree so hard she almost breaks her toes. 

“Calm down!” Marcel just barely touches her shoulder before she’s blasted him ten feet away in a wave of white magic. She’s out of control, about to explode and take everyone with her. Hope knows she should be calm, should be trying to be calm, but how can she? Her resurrected, no longer invincible parents are so close she can _feel it_ and they’re in danger. 

Landon rushes to help Marcel to his feet. Thankfully, he hasn’t been hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” she croaks through a clenched jaw. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“It’s alright,” Marcel sighs. “If you can’t calm down, just save that rage for the bad guys, yeah?” 

Hope nods stiffly. 

“Let’s head for the wolves,” she says. “Maybe they’ll have heard something.” 

“Hope, if this was a vamp pack doing this to your dad, wouldn’t they have left tracks?” Landon asks. 

“You’re right. This looks like witches to me. That would also explain why I dreamt of it. It was the ancestral link I have to this place.” 

“Let’s still head for the wolves,” Marcel says. “Maybe we can get back up. Find out what exactly we’re dealing with.” 

The three of them continue to trek through the forest as it slowly comes to life. Low-resting fog curls over the earth and stone and dewy spider-webs catch light amongst the trees. It is devoid of human noise. There is simply the croak of frogs, the chirps of birds. Even Landon seems at a loss at the ancient magic of the bayou. 

Hope feels as if she is a spring coiled too tight. Her hands shake, her brow gathers sweat, she stumbles when she walks. She is breathing hard, grinding her teeth, as they walk on into the neverending forest. 

There is strong magic polluting this place. It is marred by memory as well. The last time she stepped foot here was her mother’s funeral. It is also an unexplainable, ancient magic that tells her that her parents are near. She can just feel it. She just has to find them. 

It is then that the world answers her prayers. 

Time slows. 

The birds fall silent. 

Hope passes a large tree trunk, Landon and Marcel flank her on either side. They do not matter now, though, her vision has tunneled. Her breath catches in her chest and she stops short. 

From a distance she sees her.

Hayley Marshall crouches amongst the yellow flowers, gathering kindling wood. She is bruised and bloody, but there she is. 

“ _Mom_ …” she can’t even hear her voice in her ears, her heart is pounding too hard. “Mom!” 

Her mother looks up from her place and the kindling tumbles from her hands. She rises quickly to her feet, one hand slowly moving to cover her mouth. 

“Hope?” 

Then all at once, they both start moving, desperately running to reach each other. Hope crashes into her mother’s arms so hard they almost tumble to the ground. 

“Oh, baby,” her mom’s hands move all over her, shaking. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

Hope is feeling so much, so fast, she can’t even cry. All she can do is stare at her mom’s face, still alive. _Alive_. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry I got you killed. It was all my fault.”

“No, no, don’t say that,” Hayley brushes the hair out of her face and seems to try her best to smile. “I do not blame you, Hope. I missed you so much.” 

The sob that erupts from her throat startles her, and then she is crying into her mother’s chest. It’s a storm of tears, built up from days of chaos and confusion. Around them, the wind howls, and the bows shake. 

“It’s OK, it’s OK, I’m here. Let it all out,” her mom hugs her tighter, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Look how big you are. You look so much like your father.” 

Hope laughs, sniffling furiously. It’s just like what her Uncle Elijah said. 

“I missed you so much,” her words are barely audible from how hard she is crying. She just can’t seem to stop. “I couldn’t… I didn’t know what to do without you.” 

“I’m so proud of you,” Hayley wipes her tears away. “Oh, look at you.” 

For several minutes Hope can’t let go of her mother, and they stand there swaying with the will of the wind. It feels surreal to be in her arms again. 

Even if this is all a dream, even if this will all be gone in the morning, Hope knows that she must take this as the gift that it is. 

Just one more minute with her family would be worth all of the sorrow later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment down below, and thank you so much for all of your support so far.


	6. For Breaking Your Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After reuniting with a long-lost family member, Hope and Co. journey into the depths of the forest to rescue her father.

Hope doesn’t want to ever let go. Eventually, though, she forces herself to step back from her mother. Her mother, back from the dead. 

“Hi, Marcel,” Hayley gives him a side hug and kisses him briefly on both cheeks. “It’s so nice to see your face again.” 

All Hope can seem to do is stare. There is a gash on her mother’s cheek, she has a split lip, one of her eyes is slightly swollen. Still, Hope thinks she is the most beautiful woman on the planet. Even with leaves and twigs in her hair. Her clothes— the clothes that she died in— are splattered with mud and dirt. Some of the blood on her does not smell like her own… it smells like Klaus’. 

“What happened to you?” Hope asks, desperate to pull her mother’s attention back to her. 

“I woke up in a field in Kansas with-” 

“Dad, Elijah, and Mikael, I know,” Hope nods. “Then you were kidnapped by a vamp pack. We found Elijah on the road on the way to New Orleans.” 

“Oh, thank God he’s alright,” Hayley sighs heavily. “I don’t know why I’m alive again, but after Klaus and I got away from the amateur vamps we hotwired a car and drove here. As soon as we crossed the border into the city these witches captured us and did all sorts of voodoo. Klaus got me out but couldn’t escape himself. He’s somewhere in this bayou.” 

“What did they want?” Marcel asks.

“They knew who we were and that Klaus wasn’t invincible anymore. Word travels fast. I think they wanted to use him as a blood sacrifice to the ancestors and steal his power for themselves.” 

“Shit,” Marcel swears. “I thought I had a good thing going with the witches. Did you recognize any of them?” 

“No, they were young. About seventeen of them, in their twenties at most. They’re probably trying to get in the ancestor’s good graces, but they made a really stupid decision.” 

“Who are the ancestors?” Landon asks. Hope had almost forgotten he was there in her distraction. She’s so glad he is though, the sight of his face brings her back to a body. Slowly the cacophony of the forest fades back in. She inhales deeply to ground herself, taking in the dust and dew. 

“New Orleans witches run on ancestral magic. If a French Quarter witch dies here they live on in the ancestral plane and meddle with the living,” she explains. “It’s pretty obnoxious.” 

“Who’s this?” her mom asks. 

“I’m Landon Kirby, Ma’am,” he shakes her hand. “Hope’s boyfriend. It’s great to meet you.” 

Hayley shoots Hope a funny face, with raised brows and a wide smile. Hope laughs and thinks: how has she gone on without her mother for so long? This is her best friend in the whole world, and she’s standing before her again. 

“Well, Landon Kirby, I’m not a Ma’am, you can call me Hayley. It’s lovely to meet you too,” she says. “I will have to hear all about how you two met when Klaus isn’t about to be ritually sacrificed.” 

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Hope tugs at her mom’s hand. That buzzy sense of urgency has come back, and this time with a fervor. She’s got her mom back, _finally_ and now she needs to get her dad. She needs to get them so they can go home and she can tell them all of the things she never got the chance to say. With the Hollow gone, they could be a real family.

“Hope, I don’t want you going in there. These witches had some serious power behind them. You could get hurt. Marcel and I can handle it.” 

Hope had forgotten that when her mother died she was still practically a little girl. She didn’t have a handle on her power yet, she hadn’t even triggered her wolf curse. Hayley must think she is still the same child, in need of protection. 

“Mom, I can handle it,” she says. “I’m a full tribrid now. Nothing is going to stop me, and I’m the most powerful card you have to play.” 

Hayley’s heartbreak is evident on her face before she seems to try to hide it. Hope watches her mother take a deep, shaky breath and then nod her head. 

“I’ve obviously missed a lot,” she smiles sadly and gives Hope a squeeze of the hand. “You’ve learned to protect yourself without me.” 

“Yes,” Hope nods, not hiding the truth. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still need you by my side.” 

Hayley kisses two fingers and touches them to Hope’s. 

“Alright, Hayley, do you know where Klaus was taken?” Marcel asks. 

“Yes, I’ll lead the way. I was actually going to the wolves to get back up but I think you three will do fine.” 

They start their walk through the woods, moving at a swift pace through the higher ground. There is so much to say but Hope doesn’t know how to say it. There are so many things she wants to tell her mom: about Landon, about school, about her life with the Saltzmans. All of that feels so mundane, though. It is horrible to feel out of sync and place with someone who had once known her inside and out. A lot has changed in the past two years. She is not the same daughter her mother left. She finds herself at a loss. 

“I was a foster kid too,” Hayley is saying to Landon. “I jumped around everywhere until I met Klaus and got caught up in Mikaelson family drama.” 

“Really?” Landon asks. “I found myself a family right out of foster care too.” 

_Family_ , Hope smiles. Her friends at the Salvatore school may be a different kind of family, but she would do anything for them. She’s glad Landon feels the same way. 

“You seem a bit shell-shocked,” Marcel bumps her shoulder to hers. They walk side-by-side, several feet behind her mom and Landon. 

“I am,” Hope says. “I feel like I’m overloaded. Or… oversaturated with everything.” 

There is a horrible stress racing through her, made of pure adrenaline. It is making her jump at the slightest of sounds and clench her hands into fists. 

She can’t stop staring at her mom as she walks. The way she moves, the exact fall of her strides, the exact cadence of her voice… she feels almost as if she is watching an old video. Hope finds that she still misses her mom, even with her five steps away. It’s because everything is different, and nothing with them ever has a happy ending. Hope must be a stranger to her, familiar yet warped, grotesque. So much darker than the little girl she left. Maybe she doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t want to let her mother down when she sees what Hope has become. 

Still, she is desperate to reach her father. She thinks she won’t believe this is all real until she sees him, and he is safe again. She feels that tight coil of magic welling up inside of her chest again, ready to blow everyone away. 

“Alright,” Hayley pulls them all to a stop. Hope smells burned sage, hears voices arguing…smells blood. Her father’s blood. A dark, heady rage begins to fill up her core. She wipes the sweat from her brow. “It’s just over this ridge. Marcel, you and I should sneak around the other side. Hope, you and Landon can take the front. Let’s try to just incapacitate and not kill or injure as many of these kids as possible. Then we can call Vincent and he can give them his own punishment.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Marcel nods. “See you all in a few. I’ll give a whistle as a signal.” 

Hayley meets Hope’s eyes and nods once, as some kind of show of support. 

Then, Hope watches her mother and Marcel slink off, tiptoeing past her line of sight and into the trees. 

“Are you OK?” Landon asks. 

No, she feels stormy and bitter and like she’s a bomb about to go off. 

“I will be,” is all she says. “Once my dad is safe.” 

“Your mom seems nice.” 

“She is. She’s the best.” 

Landon seems to sense that she needs quiet because he does not speak again. Hope finds herself glaring at tree bark, willing it to tell her why this is all happening. 

These witches have captured and incapacitated her father. She wants to rip them apart with her teeth. She’s hungry on top of it all, too. She wants to feel them go limp as she drinks their life force. 

The sun has disappeared behind a cloud, the wind is picking up. Leaves blow in rivulets and swirls around her ankles. Still Hope glares at this tree, willing it to give her answer. Give her a _why_. 

The only answer she gets in return is Marcel’s whistle from somewhere far away. 

Hope grabs Landon by the shirt sleeve and speeds them both over the ridge and into a large, grassy clearing. 

Inside at least twenty young witches are gathered, laying out magical objects in several concentric circles. In the central circle, held up by cut two wooden trunks in the shape of an ‘X’ is her father, Klaus Mikaelson, strung up by the wrists, head lolling against his chest. Everything else leaves her mind at the sight of him, her invincible father, unconscious. Her invincible father, brought back from the dead, not twenty feet ahead of her. There is blood running from his forehead, but other than that and the sleeping spell they have on him, he looks alright. The sight of him makes her want to break down and scream until the world breaks. She sees Hayley and Marcel across the clearing, both in fighting stances. 

“Give us Klaus Mikaelson!” Marcel shouts. “This doesn’t have to end violently. It’s over.” 

“This isn’t over!” one of the witches shouts. She can’t be more than twenty-five, with long auburn hair and a mouse-like face. “You can’t stop us. Nothing can.” 

“Try me!” Hope growls. The witches, not having seen her, all turn with their weapons raised. 

“Mae, that’s Hope Mikaelson!” one of the boys hisses. “The tribrid.” 

“You’ve heard of me? Fantastic,” Hope puts on her most frightening grin. She swears they all take a trembling step back. “Then you know what I’ll do to you if you don’t give me my dad.” 

“Not if I get you first, bitch,” in a flash the red-headed witch has thrown a metallic, spinning object at them. Hope doesn’t even have time to duck, or to scream, or to think, it moves too fast. 

“Hope!” Landon throws himself in front of her and the weapon of a thousand cuts, the devil’s star, hits him square in the chest. Landon sways in place, then starts choking on his blood, and falls backward into Hope’s outstretched arms. 

“Oh my god, Landon,” all she can do is stare, petrified, horrified as gashes appear in his skin, seeping red into his clothes. “No, no, no. You’re ok, you’re ok. Just breathe.” 

She lowers him to the ground so they’re both sitting on the forest floor. Distantly, she hears Marcel and Hayley fighting with the witches. 

“This is by far the most unpleasant way to die,” Landon coughs wetly and red blood spurts from his lips. “Ugh. Would not recommend. Can you— eugh — can you kill me or something? I don’t want to choke on my blood for ten minutes.” 

“I don’t want to kill you.” 

“Hope, please, I feel like Draco Malfoy.” 

“Huh?” 

“Sectumsempra.” 

Hope kisses him on the forehead and breaks his neck as cleanly as she can. Even if she knows he will come back, the sight of him, dead on the forest floor, eyes staring up unseeing, is a nightmare. Her heart is thundering in her chest, breaths do not come easy. Every part of her is shaking. 

All that magic inside of her, all that confusion, all of that self-control breaks open like floodgates on a dam. 

Hope lets out a scream, as loud as she can, and a shockwave of white energy knocks over every person in the clearing. She clambers to her feet, nearly tripping over Landon’s already-smoking corpse. 

“You wanted the tribrid freakshow? You’ve got her!” Hope holds her arms out wide, looking down at the pathetic witches, scrambling to their feet. Marcel has stopped fighting across the clearing, standing slack-jawed at the sight of her. How horrifying must she look, to stop Marcel Gerard in his tracks? Further away, her mother is also horrified, staring at her, supporting her just coming-to father. None of them matter, though. 

All that matters is that these witches came in the way of her happiness. They hurt her father, they hurt Landon. They’re not going to be able to hurt anyone ever again. 

The earth answers to her call. Trees are blown so hard that branches come ripping off, there is a crash of thunder up above. 

Hope is consumed by an unending rage, at her life, at the Necromancer, at everything. She speeds toward the nearest witch and rips their head clean off of their body. The rest of them start running and screaming, but they’re too slow for her. She plows through them like they’re nothing, ripping and biting and maiming. She blasts one with lightning straight out of her palms, then impales another on a branch. They’re so afraid of her she can taste it on her tongue. 

The red-headed witch is scrambling backward across the blood-stained dirt, crying, begging her not to kill. Hope is moving to tear her throat out when a pair of arms wrap around her middle. 

“Stop,” a voice says. She kicks and screams against it, clawing at the arms. “Stop.” 

She can’t stop. 

All of a sudden the world turns into a blur of vampire speed, of trees and dirt and water and- 

Hope is slammed against a tree, with hands on her shoulders to keep her there. Slowly she follows the way the hands connect to wrists, then elbows, then shoulder. She keeps looking up until her eyes settle on her father’s face. 

She hears her own breaths come in and out as wheezes, and she can’t quite comprehend what she’s seeing. 

“Darling, if this is what your temper tantrums have come to, you really need another outlet,” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His voice. Oh, god, he sounds exactly the same. It wakes her up, snapping her back into place. Hope’s breath picks up as horror washes through her. 

What has she done? 

“Dad?” she asks, voice low. 

Klaus gently wipes the blood from her chin. His eyes are glassy. 

“Yes, love,” he nods. “I’m here.” 

All the breath leaves her lungs in one fell swoop. It really is him. Everything about him is the same. It is as if he has stepped out of memory, out of the night he left her. Only this time he is whole and warm, and safe. 

“Dad,” she says again, but it comes out more like a whimper. She pulls him forward and embraces him with all of her strength. She is shaking so hard that she makes him shake too. His skin is warm, she can hear his slow heartbeat. “I still haven’t forgiven you.” 

“For what?” he pulls back, brows drawn. Hope sees there is a tear rolling down his cheek. 

“For breaking your promise.” 

“What promise was that?” 

“Always and forever,” Hope says. Words are becoming hard as her throat closes up and she fights off tears. “You promised me you’d be my protector, always and forever.” 

Klaus’s face crumbles and his shoulders fall. 

“That I did,” he says. “I don’t think you need my protection anymore, Hope, but… I think that maybe this is my chance to make it up to you? Could you forgive me?” 

He is looking at her anxiously, desperately searching her eyes for an answer. Hope chokes on a laugh and nods. 

“I was never really mad,” she says. “Not at you. I’m just so happy you’re here.” 

“I’ve learned the world often has funny ways of forcing us to keep our oaths. Maybe, this second chance at life is to allow me to keep my vow to you.” 

“That’s a nice way to look at it,” she smiles. 

“My littlest wolf, all grown up,” Klaus bumps his forehead to hers, smiling. She’d forgotten that smile he used to get when he looked at her. The one that was just hers. “Are you ready to face the music?” 

“No,” she says. 

“I promise, we can chat later. And never think you have to apologize to me for being angry. Still, you did just murder twenty witches.” 

“Yeah,” Hope nods. There are so many conflicting emotions swirling around inside of her. She wants to hit herself for what she’s done, or devolve into a teary mess. Then there is the happiness she feels at seeing her father’s face. Then there is the guilt and shame that her parents and Marcel had to see her violent meltdown. Then there’s— “Oh my god, Landon. Take us back!” 

In a flash, her father has picked her up and speeds them back through the forest. As soon as they stop he sets her to her feet in the clearing. Hope forces herself to not look at all of the dead bodies, and instead focus on Marcel and Hayley, who are trying to douse Landon’s flaming body with water. 

“Stop!” she yells. She races at them and pushes them both aside. “Stop, don’t put it out!” 

“He— he just burst into flame. I don’t— oh, god, I’m so sorry Hope, I didn’t know what to do,” her mother is freaking out at the dead, burning teenager at her feet. 

“It’s alright,” Hope watches as the flames start to die down. “This is normal.” 

“What the hell is that?” Klaus goes to kick Landon’s ash-covered body with his foot and Hope pushes him back. 

“ _That_ is my boyfriend, and I’d appreciate it if you waited to kick him until he’s fully resurrected himself.” 

“You mean he was serious about being a frickin’ _phoenix_?” Marcel asks, incredulous. “I thought he was joking.” 

“Most people do,” Hope says. “It’s a very long story.” 

“Hope, what you did, just now—” her mother starts. 

“Please, can we talk about it later?” Hope snaps. “...Sorry. I’m overwhelmed.” 

Her father has crouched to sit back on his heels and pokes Landon’s no longer flaming stone-covered body with a very distasteful look on his face. 

The stone starts to crack open and a few seconds later Landon is sitting there, looking exhausted, covered in ash and blood. 

“Oh, you idiot,” Hope falls to the ground and flings her arms around her neck. “Are you stupid? I can’t die. That thing wouldn’t have killed me.” 

“Yeah, but for you, it would have hurt and for me, it was just a day nap,” he shrugs. Hope leans back, glaring at him. 

“I don’t like watching you die. Or snapping your neck. Just—… don’t do that again, please?” 

“I can’t promise that, but I’ll try?” Landon fixes a very innocent smile on his face. Then, his attention fixes beyond her, and his eyes go wide with fear. Hope is dragged up with him as he clambers to his feet. “Mr. Mikaelson, I’m Landon Kirby, it’s an honor to meet you.” 

He says all of this very quickly, in a borderline robotic tone. Hope watches anxiously as her father squints down at Landon’s outstretched hand. 

“Landon Kirby,” Klaus says slowly, rounding out each syllable. Landon goes to drop his hand after an awkward few seconds of silence, but her father catches it and shakes it. “Pleasure’s all mine.” 

“Well, lovely as this is,” her mom smiles tensely. “We should get going. We have a lot to sort out.” 

“I’m gonna stay behind,” Marcel says. “Vincent is coming to help me clean up, uh… this mess.” 

Still, Hope cannot bring herself to look at all of the witches she killed. 

“What happened?” Landon squints at them, looking vaguely sick at the sight. 

“I happened,” Hope says. His mouth actually drops open slightly. “They hurt you. And they hurt my dad. That’s… not an excuse, though. Marcel, tell Vincent I’m sorry?” 

“Will do, Little Mikaelson,” he nods, although his face is grim. 

“Come on, Hope,” her father slings an arm around her shoulder. “Lead the way home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Leave a comment down below and thank you so much for all of your support :-)!


	7. Your Very Own Monet's Cathedral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope returns to her family home after a horrible morning. When things get rocky, her father decides to show her around New Orleans to take her mind off of things.

Her father is driving, her mother is in the passenger seat. No one is speaking. 

Hope is hunched over her knees in the back seat, staring at the floor of the car. She rubs her hands up and down her arms, trying to shake the cold which has settled in her. She thinks she is going to be sick. 

Twenty people. 

_Twenty people._

Hope rubs at her temples, trying to get the storm in her head to stop. 

She sees her parents keep trading looks, mouthing words at each other. They’re having an entire conversation without saying anything, and Hope is sure it’s about her. She cannot remember a time when all three of them were together like this. 

She has been longing for her family for so long, yearning for memories she has half made up. Right now it strikes her that they are three strangers, separated by time, tragedy, and broken hearts. 

Hope sniffles loudly and leans back in her seat, crossing her arms tight to her chest. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Landon says softly from beside her. Her parents stop their silent argument and pretend not to listen. Even Landon looks upset, and can she blame him? 

Hope nods once and doesn’t speak— _can’t_ speak for a moment. All she does is pick at her nails and stare out at the trees as they pass. 

“Please don’t ask me to kill you again,” she finally says. She can’t meet his eyes. “I can’t-... I can’t do that to you.” 

“Alright,” he nods, face grim. 

“How did you trigger your curses?” Hayley suddenly asks from the front. The question comes through a clenched jaw, and her mother does not turn around to look at her. 

“Uh…” her voice is brittle in her ears. “I triggered the wolf curse two years ago right before dad—… hm. I indirectly killed this man in a church when I—… well, that’s not relevant. I got myself killed three weeks ago when I jumped into a sentient mud pit which erased me from the world’s memory for a bit. Once I got out of that, two days ago… well, it’s been a shitty two days. It’s been a shitty two years, actually.” 

Her father changes lanes too fast and nearly crashes into a stop sign. His expression has not changed, but his eyes are dark. 

“I’m sorry,” her mother says in a rush of air. 

“It’s not your fault,” Hope swallows thickly. 

“Why are we back?” Hayley asks. 

“I dragged this necromancer into the evil mud pit with me,” she explains. “I think he brought you all back to torment me or something. Usually, he can mind control the people he resurrects but… well, he’s in a mud pit.” 

“We’ll need to hunt down Mikael,” her mom sighs. Hope is starting to get worried about the silence of her father. He keeps his eyes ahead on the road, and could maybe fool someone into thinking he’s calm. Not her, though. 

“No need. I killed him.” 

“What?” the word is so soft she almost doesn’t hear it. Her father’s eyes meet hers in the rearview mirror. “You did _what_?” 

“He came to the Salvatore School and tried to kill my friends,” she explains. “He… talked about you. We fought. I killed him.” 

_I ripped his heart out of his chest and bit into it_ , she doesn’t say. Hope shudders. 

Klaus looks properly angry now. His brows furrow and a muscle in his jaw feathers. In fact, he looks like he’s about to rip the steering wheel off of its place. 

But still, he does not say a word. All Hope wants in the world is for him to look at her. 

“If he ever comes back, mark my words, I will destroy him so thoroughly that even in his afterlife he’s still begging for mercy,” he snarls. “What did he say to you?” 

“It doesn’t matter now, he’s gone,” Hope says. 

“It matters to me!” her father yells. She’d forgotten how he did that: went from still waters to rage in the blink of an eye. Hope feels hurt rising up inside her at the force of his temper but then realizes exactly why he’s so upset. 

“He didn’t say anything true, dad,” she says. His grip on the steering wheel relaxes just slightly. 

“So you’ve been living where?” Her mom pipes up after a few minutes of silence. 

“At the Salvatore School.” 

“Oh, Alaric and I will be having some words,” Klaus says. 

The car rolls to a stop outside of the Abattoir. Around them, New Orleans is just waking up. Shop doors are opening, couples stroll around with hot cups of coffee, musicians set up their spots on street corners. Passersby are blissfully oblivious to the turmoil inside of the manor. 

Landon practically jumps out of the car as soon as they’ve stopped moving. 

Hope is hit with a wave of vertigo as soon as her feet hit the pavement and goes careening into her father’s side. He catches her by the elbows and hauls her back up to her feet. His eyes are anxious, searching hers for any signs of hurt. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing, I’m just…” she doesn’t want to say it. Landon is standing not three feet away, she doesn’t want to say it. Still, she forces herself to. “I’m hungry.” 

She had used so much magic and energy up in the bayou, she feels like she could keel over. Then of course there is the emotional expenditure, the mental fallout of being reunited with her parents. 

“Then let’s get you something to drink,” he says. Hayley shoots him a glare. “... That isn’t alive.” 

Klaus loops an arm around her back to catch her in case she falls and marches them on and through the archway of the compound. It’s surreal, to feel the warmth of his skin, to see him move. It’s surreal to see how his eyes circle around what was once his home, in almost childish wonder. It’s surreal to see the way he smiles when he looks back down at her. 

And all that is playing in Hope’s mind is _this won’t last_. 

Klaus pushes open the doors to the breakfast room in one dramatic flair to reveal their entire family plus the Saltzmans seated at the dining table. It’s stacked high with pancakes, eggs, fruits, and fresh bread. Kol drops his fork, Davina visibly grimaces. 

There are several moments of shocked silence before her father says, “Daddy’s home.” 

“Oh, you bloody bastard,” Rebekah is the first to throw herself at him. Hope’s father lets go of her just to spin his sister around like a child, laughing the whole way. Then Uncle Elijah is on his feet, hugging her mother and saying things in gentle tones. Apparently, they’ve sorted out their issues. 

“Nik,” Freya is beaming at her brother, holding her toddler on her hip. “Say hello to Little Nik.” 

The baby giggles up at Klaus’ wonderstruck face and reaches out to tug at his ear. 

“Oh, hello, you,” he smiles. “Do you take after me or your mum I wonder?” 

“He takes after Keelin, thank god,” Freya laughs. 

“I can’t believe you named him after me.” 

“Well… I thought someone in this family should be named after The Great Klaus Mikaelson.” 

“Great?” Hayley comes to her father’s side. “I would go more with Klaus the Mad.” 

“Or Klaus the self-sacrificing idiot?” Kol comes over to clap his brother on the shoulder. 

Hope is left standing on the sidelines, feeling out of place. She’s watching the people she loves most in the world, all perfectly happy. Yet she is shaking, still reeling, still hurt. Why can’t she let herself be happy when her greatest wish in the world is playing out before her? 

“You always come home bloody,” Josie says. She and Lizzie have appeared next to her. Hope thinks they may have said her name a few times. “Are you OK?” 

“Mhm,” Hope nods but cannot muster up a smile. She turns her head to see Landon and Alaric talking, standing near the end of the room. Whatever they’re saying, it doesn’t look pleasant. She wonders if he’s telling Alaric about all of the horrible things she just did. She honestly wouldn’t blame him. 

“Your dad doesn’t look like the blood-crazy ripper my dad always talks about,” Lizzie is squinting dubiously at the sight of Klaus Mikaelson kissing his little nephew’s cheeks. 

“He’s a lot of things at once,” is all Hope says. Although, she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop being angry at Alaric teaching a chapter called ‘Klaus Mikaelson: The Great Evil’ as a part of their official supernatural history curriculum. 

“I’m never letting go of you again,” she hears her Aunt Rebekah tell her mother. “Never, ever. You’re officially stuck with us.” 

“As if I haven’t been for the last seventeen years,” Hayley smiles. 

Hope is once again reminded that every lost year is her fault. 

“Is this feast all for me?” Klaus spreads out his arms to the table. Hope sees exactly the moment he spots Alaric because his whole face falls. His nostrils flare, his brows tug down, he gets this funny twist of the mouth. “Alaric.” 

All of those happy, careless voices fall silent, waiting to see what her father is going to do. For Alaric’s credit, he doesn’t start running and screaming as any sane person would. 

“Klaus,” he nods tersely, coming forward. “Good to see you back in the land of the living.” 

“Is it?” 

“What?” 

“Is it good to see me back? You seem rather content letting my daughter run rampant, get herself killed, and oh, yes, let’s not forget the part where she learned to slaughter. I wonder who taught her how to fight like that?” 

“Dad-“ Hope starts. Beside her, Josie and Lizzie’s eyes are wide as saucers. Hope can’t quite believe this is actually happening. 

“Well, someone had to teach her, you weren’t around.” 

Klaus’s face splits into a grin and he laughs. Hope can see Alaric realize the mistake he’s made half a second before her father’s fist meets his jaw. Suddenly everyone is shouting, the baby is crying, and Hope is slack-jawed watching her resurrected father beat up her found father-figure. 

“Stop! Stop it!” she yells but it’s no use. Her family doesn’t seem very intent on helping Alaric. Hope reaches out a hand to tear them apart from each other but is met with a wall of exhaustion blocking her from her power. “Josie, Lizzie, hands.” 

The girls fumble for a moment before coming on either side of her to clasp her hands in theirs. In a flash, their fathers are torn apart from each other by a blast of power, each landing on opposite sides of the room. 

“Are you kidding me?” Hope takes several steps forward so she can glare at them both. Elijah has helped her father to his feet and has a look of extreme dissatisfaction on his face. Klaus is bleeding from his lip, Alaric from his nose. “You’ve been back for all of five seconds and the first thing you do is attack my headmaster? And you, Alaric, what the hell? Respond to his issues like an adult, because honestly, they’re valid!” 

Both men look down, ashamed. 

“It’s not a Mikaelson party if no one leaves bleeding,” Davina mutters from somewhere behind her. 

“Look, it has been a very rough few days, I think we’re all a little high strung,” her mother walks forward. Hope admires how she’s always willing to take charge of a bad situation, to make sense of it. “And we have a lot of hard stuff to talk about. All of us. As a family. Believe me, I know we’re a rocky bunch but can we try to put all that darkness aside for one day? One day. No drama. Let’s take one day to be grateful that Klaus, Elijah, and I are standing here instead of all fighting like animals. I just want to be able to enjoy being _alive_ again.” 

The words resonate, seeming to echo all around and settle into all of their bones. For a moment there is silence, space for them to all catch their breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Saltzman says after the pause. “That was… unfair of me.” 

“I’ll deal with you later,” Klaus says. 

“How did you do that?” Aunt Freya asks, turning to Hope and the Saltzman twins. “You grabbed hands and blasted them apart.” 

“We’re siphoner witches,” Josie explains. “Gemini coven. We can siphon from Hope, which makes all three of us more powerful.” 

“...I’m sorry,” Freya’s face falls. “Gemini coven, that’s-” 

“No need to worry, our mom is in Europe hunting for a way to stop The Big Bad Merge,” Lizzie says. “She won’t stop until she finds it.” 

“Caroline?” Klaus smiles. 

“Alright,” Hayley claps loudly, cutting off that train of thought. “I don’t know about you all but I am _ravenous_ , let’s sit down to eat.” 

Everyone starts to move, and Hope watches as her mother wolfs down several pieces of bacon in two bites. Hope can’t bring herself to say that the sight of all of that food makes her sick. She’s hungry for something very different. 

“Change of plans,” her father says, and Hope is surprised to see him still standing, looking straight at her. “I’m taking my daughter out for beignets. I can catch up with the rest of you later.” 

He walks across the room to take her hands in his. 

“Really?” Hope hates that she sounds so fragile, especially in front of her friends from Mystic Falls. 

“Yes, really. Let’s go, love,” he gives her a gentle tug and leads her out of the room. Just before she’s cleared the door   
Hope turns and meets Landon’s eye. He smiles at her, and she breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe he hasn’t become terrified of her after all. That smile brings the promise of talking later. 

“You don’t want to see your family? You just got back,” Hope says to her father as soon as the doors have closed behind them. 

“I think you need me more right now. You looked like the world was turning without you. I know the feeling. Plus, I don’t think I have enjoyed a good beignet for years.” 

“Me neither,” she smiles up at him. They walk out, arm in arm, into the brisk morning air of the outside world. Hope thinks there is nothing quite like New Orleans when it is just waking up, and the sun is light and chilly, and the streets smell of coffee and pastries. The sight of it makes her forget, just for a moment, the atrocity she has committed. “I missed New Orleans.” 

“You didn’t come back?” her father asks. “Why not?” 

“Too many memories,” she shrugs. “I left the morning after _it_ happened, went to Maine with Kol and Davina. I just… didn’t want to come back and have it be different, you know? If I didn’t come back it could stay a certain way in my head.” 

“What did you think would change? This will always be your city.” 

“No, but in my head it was still _your_ city. You and my mom’s. Then all of a sudden it wasn’t, and everyone was telling me about how I was going to carry on your legacy. Then I would go to Mystic Falls and Alaric would be all, ‘don’t you dare be anything like your father’. That was a lot of pressure.” 

“I understand,” Klaus nods. “That was not the world I wanted to leave you in. How dare Alaric-” 

“Stop, Dr. S has been good to me. Really. I would tell you if it was otherwise. He’s helped make the Salvatore School my home. He helped me piece myself back together, and accept who I was. The good, the bad, and the really, _really_ ugly.” 

“It sounds to me like he’s been letting you run around playing hero.” 

“And who do you think I got that from?” she finds herself laughing. Hope loves the way he smiles down at her with more affection than anyone else does. 

“I don’t think that’s all you got from me,” he says, face falling. “That was quite a display earlier. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop, Dad,” Hope says. “You know Elijah said something to me, he said that I’m my own person, and my mistakes and my darkness are my _own_. I’m not a reflection of you and mom. I learned things from you, sure, but… all I ever learned from you was good. Don’t you dare blame yourself for my mess.” 

“That does sound like something my brother would say. He never ceases to amaze me. Do you have someone like that? Someone who can put all of your problems in perspective?” 

“Yeah, actually. It took me a minute but I have the best friends in the world.” 

“That _Landon_ seems to care about you a great deal. That’s the only reason I didn’t give him a good scaring,” Klaus makes a funny face, lowering his brows to look purposefully demonic. Hope snorts and knocks her shoulder into his. 

“He does care a lot,” she smiles. “And… he can’t die on me.” 

Her father stops their walking so he can turn to face her fully. 

“Listen to me, hm?” he slouches so they’re eye to eye. “You may be your own person, have your own issues, but they are still my responsibility because I am your father. And I do not intend to leave you. I never wanted to leave you.” 

Hope takes a shaky breath inwards. 

“I’m having trouble because… you’re always forced to leave. For some reason or other, and it’s always my fault. Even now, if you’re killed, it will be my fault because you were brought back in the first place because of me.” 

“No,” he shakes her hands in his. “None of it was ever your fault. Don’t say that. It was not, and it will not be. Everything that has befallen you has been a product of this family’s centuries of bloodlust and disregard for the people around us. You did not destroy us, Hope, you gave us a gift. You gave us compassion and love. Unconditional love.” 

Hope nods slowly, trying to internalize what he’s said. She’s spent so long thinking she was the doom of this family, scared to face her aunt’s and uncle’s disappointment. Klaus must be satisfied with whatever he sees on her face because he pulls her along to resume their walk. 

“Where are we going?” she asks. 

“Café Du Monde,” he says. “Best beignets in New Orleans. Do you remember, once when you were little I bought out all of the biggest stores? You liked those ones the best.” 

“Of course I remember. It’s one of my favorite memories.” 

“Mine too.” 

It hits her just then that this man in front of her is _not_ a memory. He’s not a magical illusion, he’s not a heartbroken, long-lost dream. This really is her father, Klaus Mikaelson, in front of her. She watches him for several minutes of silence as they walk through the colorful streets of their city. Occasionally he’ll point out a shop, or a bench, or a building and tell her something amusing that had happened there. She loves to watch the way his face lights up at little things. 

“Yes, and _that_ is where in nineteen sixteen I found your Uncle Elijah, drunk as a skunk and high off of _laughing_ gas. God knows why, he’s still never told me what happened at that party. Just that it involved a tiger, a dentist, and a very angry witch.” 

Hope lets herself forget about absolutely everything else. She forgets about the dead witches, about being a tribrid, about Mystic Falls, about Malivore, and the Necromancer. She does what her Mother told them all to do and simply lets herself enjoy being alive with someone she loves. 

They leave Café Du Monde with two full bags of powdery beignets. Hope wastes no time chowing down as they walk to Jackson Square. They claim a bench as their own as they drink their coffee and look out across the artists setting up easels for the day. 

“These are so good,” Hope groans. “Seriously, do they put crack in these?” 

“Aha! You’ve discovered the secret,” her father jokes. “Don’t let the tourists know.” 

“Look at that lady,” Hope points to a woman across the way who is painting the church. She has half-colored easels scattered around her feet. “She’s pulling a Monet.” 

“Monet was overrated.” 

“You think so?” 

“Well, compared to _me _...”__

__“Stop,” she smiles. “Seriously, though, I don’t get it. Painting as fast as you can to capture just a moment of light. Throwing out your work if you don’t move fast enough…”_ _

__“Maybe all she wants is to capture the moment. Maybe she sees that that one moment of light is only going to happen once, ever. She’s trying to capture the beauty before it’s forgotten.”_ _

__“I paint, you know,” she says. “I did before, but I really picked it up after you… left.”_ _

__“I’m sure you’re as brilliant at it as I am. Maybe even better.”_ _

__“Someone thinks highly of themselves,” Hope laughs. “And I don’t know. I don’t really show them to anybody.”_ _

__“Not even the oh so dreamy Landon?”_ _

__“No, not even him.”_ _

__“Well, you can show me,” he smiles at her. “I promise I’ll be honest.”_ _

__“You? Honest about my art? I could draw stick figures and you’d tell me I’m a prodigy.”_ _

__“Hey! I find that very hurtful, I am the _bastion_ of honesty.” _ _

__Hope quirks an eyebrow up at him and they have a staring contest for several seconds before they both erupt in laughter._ _

__“What was your favorite thing to paint?” she asks._ _

__“Oh, I don’t know,” he sighs. “People, maybe? Not that I was very good at it, I’ll admit. I was more of a Rothko. Deep colors, somewhat violent.”_ _

__“Overly dramatic…”_ _

__“Oh, quiet you.”_ _

__“Excuse me?” a man comes up to them from the side, holding a sheet of thick white paper in his hands. He’s obviously an artist, covered in pencil smudges and paint stains from head to toe. He’s come over from the easel closest to them, just across the way. “My name is James. I couldn’t help but notice how happy you two looked. I did this. Free of charge.”_ _

__“Oh, thank you so much,” Hope takes the paper from him. “...Wow.”_ _

__Somehow the artist has managed to capture them exactly. It’s a simple sketch with tastefully chosen bits of it colored in with watercolors. It’s Hope and her father, sitting on that bench, beignets on their laps, smiling at each other._ _

__It’s a moment of light, captured in an instant, already gone._ _

__“Have a great day, guys,” he nods before walking back to his easel._ _

__“That is beautiful,” Klaus takes it from her to inspect it. “He captured you perfectly. Got my nose a bit funny…”_ _

__“Oh, stop. I’m going to hang it up in my room at school. I love it.”_ _

__“Fine, but if you get this one then you have to promise to sit for a portrait for me. I can hang that up right in my study.”_ _

__Right in his study… if things stay like this. If he stays here, and alive, and all is well._ _

__“Dad,” she says, much softer. “I don’t want this to end. What if we could just relive this one hour, over and over? And never have to leave?”_ _

__He takes her hand in his._ _

__“Then life would be very beautiful indeed,” he says. Then, he holds up the drawing. “But that’s what this is for, isn’t it? Your very own Monet’s cathedral.”_ _

__“I like our version better.”_ _

__“Me too, sweetheart.”_ _

__And so Hope looks around Jackson Square and commits it all to memory. The lazy morning light rising in the East, the greenery, the turrets on the church, the stagecoaches rolling by, the artists talking amongst themselves. There is the sound of warm jazz, the smell of fresh beignets, the feeling of warmth on her skin. Above it all she memorizes her father smiling down at her, sitting on the wooden bench beside her. She breathes in the cool air and memorizes even how that feels._ _

__It is a moment of light, frozen in time, _hers_._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you so much for all of your support! Sorry for the slower update this time, it's been a hectic week. Leave a comment down below! :-)


	8. Waiting For The Other Shoe To Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope has some long-overdue conversations while she's waiting for the inevitable repercussions of her actions.

When Hope and her father stroll back into the compound, they find Josie, Lizzie, and Davina in the front courtyard. The three of them are laughing together, doing spells to make each other float in mid-air. 

“Well, you three are having fun,” Hope smiles. 

“Why didn’t you tell us your aunt is literally the coolest witch on the planet?” Lizzie asks as her feet touch back onto solid ground. 

“I wouldn’t go that far. I think the coolest witch on the planet is Hope,” Davina says. Then she takes a deep breath and crosses her arms as she regards her father. “Klaus. You’re back.” 

“Davina Claire, wicked and terrible as ever, I presume?” he leans down to kiss her hand, which she yanks away. 

“So glad to see death couldn’t get your spirits down,” she puts on a very fake pout. 

“That makes two of us. I trust you’ve been taking good care of my brother?” 

“Yes,” she says more seriously. “Always. You know, Klaus, I never thought I’d miss your face, and I _don’t_. However, seeing you is not terrible. If only for Kol and Hope’s sake.” 

“Aw, you missed me, admit it.” 

“Never, ever.” 

“Well, then, I see my presence is not wanted. Speaking of the devil, where is Kol? I should like to pay him a visit,” he says. “Is that alright, Hope?” 

“Oh, of course,” Hope says, flattered he would even ask. “Put this in my room for me?” 

She hands him the drawing from Jackson Square. 

“Kol is somewhere with Keelin and the baby, try the second floor,” Davina tells him, and he is off. “Hope, how are you doing?” 

“I’m overwhelmed, but fine,” she nods. “It was nice to have a distraction, but now it’s time to face reality.” 

“Dude, no,” Lizzie holds up a hand. “All you ever do is mope about your family and now you’re with them. Let yourself enjoy it for five seconds.” 

“Fine. Five. One, two, three…” 

“Lizzie is right,” Josie says. “The Necromancer isn’t an issue yet, and you’re surrounded by people that love you. Try to enjoy it?” 

“I can’t!” Hope snaps then sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. I did something this morning that is going to have serious repercussions and the bomb just hasn’t gone off yet.” 

“What did you do?” Davina asks. “Hayley wouldn’t tell us what happened. She said something to Rebekah, though, who immediately sped off to help Marcel with something.” 

“I… I…” she can’t even say it. She killed all those people, and she can’t even bring herself to do them the honor of owning it? “In the bayou, my dad had been taken captive by a bunch of young witches. We think they were just trying to get in with the ancestors, it wasn’t sanctioned by Vincent or anything. Anyways, I saw my dad strung up, and they killed Landon briefly and I…” 

“You killed them all, didn’t you?” Davina nods. “I’ve been there. You don’t want to piss off New Orleans witches.” 

“I’m aware,” Hope says. “So I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“You killed people?” Josie asks softly. Hope’s heart sinks to her feet. She can’t stand the blank horror on her friend’s faces. 

“Yes,” she says. “And if I could go back to that moment again I wouldn’t do it, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did.” 

“It’s not my job to be upset about you for this,” Josie sighs and says after an excruciating pause. “Or judge you. I just wish you hadn’t done it.” 

“I wish I hadn’t too.” 

“Is Landon OK?” Lizzie asks. “I mean, you said he died, did he do his whole flame-bird thing?” 

“Yeah, where is he?” Hope asks. She focuses on listening to the noises within the compound but can’t catch his voice anywhere. 

“I saw him go into his room right after breakfast,” Davina says. “Looked like he needed a nap.” 

“You’re not even questioning the part where I said he died?” Lizzie asks. 

“Nah, you get used to it around here.” 

“Where’s my mom, then?” Hope interrupts. 

“Kitchen.” 

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Hope abruptly speeds out of the courtyard, needing to get out of that situation as fast as possible. She blows out a long stream of air as soon as she’s jolted to a stop in the kitchen, and drags a hand down her face. 

“Hope? You’re back,” her mother’s voice says. Hope looks up to see Hayley and Alaric standing across from each other, separated by the breakfast bar. They don’t look like they’ve been having the most pleasant conversation, and she’s obviously interrupted. It’s once again jarring to see her mother standing there, perfectly healthy. “How were beignets?” 

Her mom comes over to give her a giant hug, wrapping her in her arms so tight that for a moment she can’t breathe. It feels great. 

“Beignets were perfect,” she says. “I really needed some fresh air.” 

“Good. I’m glad,” Hayley smiles, then leans away from her. “Alaric just explained Malivore to me, and this Necromancer. That is some seriously strange stuff.” 

“Tell me about it,” Hope says. “Did you tell her about the part where I’m the only thing toxic to it?” 

“I was just getting there,” Alaric says. 

“So you’re the only thing that can destroy it?” her mother asks. 

“Theoretically. Right now, though, we can’t destroy it because the Necromancer is in there. He cannot be set free at all costs, even though I promised him I would get him out,” she explains. 

“Because then I’ll be turned into a murder zombie? Great. My question is, how long can we last like this if he’s not ‘supervising’ us, or however it works?” 

“We have no idea,” Alaric says. “Josette was fine and normal until suddenly she wasn't. That was when the Necromancer was in this dimension, though.” 

“The fun never stops around here,” Hayley sighs. 

“Hey, mom, can I talk to you?” Hope takes one of her hands and tilts her head toward the door. “We could go up to the terrace?” 

“Sure, hun,” her mother nods then looks to the fridge. “But why don’t you get something to drink first? You look exhausted.” 

Hope is eternally grateful for that. She was getting worried she would have to sneak a blood pack later when no one was looking, purely out of shame. So, she grabs two out of the fridge, throws a salute to Alaric, and heads upstairs with her mom. 

They end up sitting on the iron-wrought terrace off of her mother’s and Elijah’s room. Hope isn’t sure when it became _their_ room, plural, but she’s happy it is. Inside, one of her uncle’s old suits is hanging from the top of the closet door. On the bureau, next to her mother’s makeup, is a picture of the two of them from years ago, in some forgotten place. 

Hope had not had the heart to come back to this terrace after her mother’s death. They had spent so many afternoons there, cold lemonades in hand, discussing anything and everything. When Hope takes a seat, looking down on lively New Orleans, it’s like she never left. 

“So. What’s up?” Hayley asks. Hope has just downed an entire blood pack in four gulps. She hastily wiped a stray drop from her chin. 

“What isn’t?” Hope says. “I don’t know, I feel like I have a million and one things to tell you and I don’t know where to start.” 

“So, start at a million and one. I want to hear every second of it.” 

And so, Hope starts at the very beginning. She goes through the details of her father’s death, and of her triggering her werewolf curse. She talks about staying with Rebekah and Kol, how they pieced her back together with chicken soup and 80s rom-coms. She talks about her classes at Salvatore, who the worst teachers are, Lizzie and Josie. She talks about training with Alaric in the mornings and meeting Landon and all of the drama that came with that. She talks about MG, Raf, Kaleb, and the mess with Penelope Park. She goes through all of the mundane stuff, all of the stupid stuff, until finally she is caught up to the present. 

“I’m honestly mad that this family wasn’t keeping better tabs on you,” Hayley says when Hope finishes explaining her jump into Malivore. “They should have been helping with this.” 

“I didn’t exactly call them to let them know,” Hope winces. 

“Well, then Alaric should have called them! Or made you call them.” 

“Honestly, I was glad for the peace and quiet. Also, I basically told Kol to stop calling to coddle me and let me be my own person. It wasn’t my best moment. Still, it taught me how to handle stuff myself, and make actual connections to people I’m not blood-related to.” 

“Ok,” Hayley holds up her hands in surrender, still smiling. “Tell me, then. You got out, you triggered your curse, everything started going wrong. Tell me how _you_ are feeling.” 

“I’m… I’m…” Hope can’t find adequate words. “I don’t feel like myself— or, no, that’s not right. I feel exactly like myself but everything is dialed up to 100.” 

“You know, as scary as it is, that’s normal,” her mother says. “I never wanted that for you until you were older, but life has a funny way of moving too fast. When I turned? I was violent, and self-destructive, and a total _mess_. I had also just lost my baby girl, and I took that out on everyone else. I guess what I’m trying to say is I understand why what happened this morning happened, even if it broke my heart.” 

“Really?” Hope asks. A weight feels like it’s been lifted off of her chest. “I was worried you’d… I don’t know, I was just so scared.” 

“Scared of what, sweet girl?” Hayley tucks a piece of Hope’s hair behind her ear. “You could never do anything to drive me away. I’m sad about what happened, and scared for you, but never of you. This was a low point, but I know you’ll do better.” 

“Really?” Hope is so full of love and gratitude in that moment. Just thinking she is the luckiest daughter in the world, to have a mother like this. “I wish I could see it that simply. I feel like these last two years have just been this dark tunnel. Nothing seemed clear, and I was just so angry. _So_ angry, all the time. I felt like…” 

Hope is having a hard time saying what she really wants to say. She finds it's so hard to voice the fear she’s kept to herself these two years, buried in the deepest, darkest part of herself. Still, cast in the golden morning light of New Orleans she feels as if that part of her suddenly isn’t so dark. She tries to steady herself, looking out across the beauty of the noisy, stinky, colorful French Quarter. 

“Felt like what?” 

“I felt like you and dad would be disappointed if you could see me. You told me I was going to do great things, and be better than you, and be merciful. But I’ve killed over thirty people in three days. Am I letting you down? I mean dad and Uncle Elijah died for me and I just— I don’t feel like I was worth it. I’m not the person they wanted me to be.” 

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” her mother has gotten out of her seat to crouch in front of her and wipe the tears from her face. She didn’t even realize she was crying and feels pretty pathetic. “Alaric was telling all of the amazing stuff you’ve done and you _are_ merciful, and strong, and beautiful, and better than any of us. And even if you weren’t any of those things I would still love you— your dad and uncle would still love you— until the oceans are dust. All we have ever wanted for you is for you to be happy.” 

“I was happy,” Hope says, after a long, full moment. “I was starting to be really happy. And then this happened. I think I’m acting out because I’m so scared this is all going to go away again, and I don’t know if I can handle losing you a second time.” 

“You never lost me, Hope,” her mother says. “I don’t remember my afterlife but I know I was at peace, and that I was watching over you. And even if this is the last day we ever get together, even if it could all go up in smoke, isn’t it the greatest gift to be able to spend one more second together?” 

“Yeah,” Hope says. “Yes. Any time with you is a gift.” 

“I love you, always and forever,” Hayley kisses a hand and goes back to her seat. “Now, I have a job for you.” 

“A job?” she asks, taken aback by the shift of topic. 

“Yes, I want you to go talk to that sweet boyfriend of yours.” 

“I’m scared to.” 

“You’ve faced much scarier things than that, go face those fears.” 

“You’re right,” Hope nods, trying to gather her resolve. “What are you going to do?” 

“ _I_ am going to go on a date,” she smiles.

“A _date_?” 

“Yes, Elijah and I are going for a long overdue drink at Rousseau’s.” 

“I’m happy for you mom,” Hope says. “Keep an ear out, though? I have a bad feeling Vincent could storm in here any minute calling for my death by firing squad.” 

“Stop it, Vincent loves you.” 

“Yeah, but the New Orleans witches don’t.”

“You’re trying to distract me, you have a boyfriend to talk to,” Hayley shoos her. “Go before I remove you from my room.”

“Fine, fine,” Hope leaves laughing, trying to steel herself. The whole way down the stairs and towards the guest room she tries and fails to think of something to say to Landon. 

She knocks on the door before entering to find Landon asleep, face smushed into his pillow on a half-deflated air mattress. He jolts awake when she enters. Inside the curtains are drawn so everything is cast in half-darkness. There’s a thin coat of dust over all of the furniture, and a stray bit of light has caught in the chandelier, refracting thousands of little shards of light. On the floor, Landon and Alaric’s suitcases are a mess, clothes spilling out across the hardwood. 

“Huh? What?” he grumbles, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Oh, Hope. Hi, Hope.” 

“Wow, you were out,” she tries to laugh, make it light. “I’m sorry to wake you.” 

“No, it’s all good I needed to get up anyway,” he stands and wobbles a little. While he’s standing, Hope goes and opens the shades, letting in a world of light and kicking up a cloud of dust. She coughs, waving it away from her face. “You look nice, did you change?” 

“No, I should, though. I smell like swamp. Why are you on an air mattress?” she walks back over to where he’s standing, still keeping her distance in case he doesn’t want to be near her. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to share a bed with Dr. Saltzman, who is a _terrible_ snorer, by the way. He sounded like a beehive.” 

“We have like five guest rooms, you should just take another one.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that, your uncles pretty much told Dr. S to keep an eye on me at night so I couldn’t go ‘canoodle’ with you. I think that was their exact word of choice.” 

“Elijah did not say ‘canoodle’.” 

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” he smiles. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all. “Also your dad? Terrifying, but not ‘the devil’ terrifying like I was expecting.” 

“Oh, don’t get me started on how stupid Alaric's 'history textbook’ is,” Hope shakes her head. “I mean, believe me, I get it. Not everyone has to like him or feel like I do about him. Still though, even if you don’t like him you have to acknowledge he’s more than just ‘evil’! Sorry… you got me started.” 

“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” he takes one of her hands in hers and swings it back and forth between them. “Can we talk about earlier?” 

“...Yeah. That’s why I came in actually. Do you want to start or should I?” 

“I should start, and let me preface by saying I’m not mad or disgusted, or whatever your self-hate is telling you I am,” he says. Hope finds herself smiling despite herself. “I mean you warned us that New Orleans wasn’t going to be as clear-cut and ethics is a mess in supernatural world. Was I disturbed? Yes. Do I wish you didn’t do it? Yes. Do I hope you won’t do it again? Also, definitely yes. I also know that you are going through some serious crap and you know what you did wasn’t ok. I mean, you do know that, right?” 

“Yes, of course,” she nods, closing some of the space between them. “I hate myself for it, and that you had to see that. And that… you have to deal with my family because it isn’t a cakewalk.” 

“I actually love your family,” he smiles. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, your Aunt Rebekah is hilarious, and everyone is so over-dramatic and interesting. I feel like I’m with all of these supernatural celebrities and seeing how weird and fun they are.” 

“I’m glad you think that because you should see us when we’re fighting. It’s not pretty.” 

“I can imagine,” they share a moment of simple, happy quiet. “I’m really glad I get to meet them all, though. Seriously. Nerve-wracking as it is, I feel like I understand you better now.” 

“Why are you always so cute?” she leans up to peck him on the lips. “Seriously, you always know exactly what to say.” 

“It’s my superpower. Hope-speak,” he says, then his smile fades to yield something more serious. “Hey though, could you maybe promise me something?” 

“Anything,” she says. It’s true, she realizes in that moment, that she would promise him anything in the world. 

“Next time you feel like you want to break the world, talk to me first? I mean, next time you feel that angry instead of killing know that we have your back and that murdering people isn’t going to make you feel better. Just know that next time you’d hurt me more if you went on a rampage than if you let me get killed.” 

“Ok… I can promise that.” she nods. “I promise that next time I want to kill everyone in sight I’ll think of you to keep me calm, and handle it maturely.” 

“Thank you,” he kisses her. 

“Hope, darling, are you decent in there?” Kol has opened the door and is peering at them with a hand over his eyes. 

“Yes, pervert,” she sighs, stepping back from Landon. 

“Good, because you’re needed downstairs. Vincent looks like he’s grown six gray hairs in the past few hours and really needs a drink.” 

“Vincent is here?” her heart falls to her feet. 

“Yes, he’s very unhappy that the most chaotic Originals are in town again. Wants us all to leave, it’s a big drama. Something about some dead witches?” 

“Yeah, I should go deal with that…” she throws a nervous look at Landon. “Come with me?” 

“Always,” he says. 

“Where’s my dad?” she asks, already walking out of the room with Landon and her uncle on her heels. 

“He’s uh-” 

“Keep talking about my daughter like that and I’ll rip out your tongue!” Klaus Mikaelson’s voice shouts from somewhere down below. 

“Down there,” Kol winces. “Should I be worried?” 

“Very,” she says. Hope rolls her shoulders back and takes a deep breath. Standing in the middle of the courtyard are her father, Marcel, Aunt Rebekah, and…. “Hi, Vincent.” 

“Miss Mikaelson, you are in a whole heap of trouble.” 

The sound of the other shoe dropping is deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for all of your support! Leave a comment down below :-)


	9. Not a Thing Wrong in the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and her family come up with a game plan. The next morning, Hope tries to make things right.

In the many years that Hope has known Vincent Griffith, she has never seen him look so miserable. After the Mikaelson’s fall from grace, as the locals put it, he had been re-elected as regent of the nine covens. He had ruled the city with peace, wisdom, compassion, and a backbone tough as steel. He had also become a part of the Mikaelson family when he helped Freya and Keelin have baby Nik. Despite all of his compassion, peace, wisdom, and his newfound status as a Mikaelson, he still looks like he is going to be sick at the sight of Klaus. 

“Miss Mikaelson, you are in a whole heap of trouble,” he tells her as she comes down the stairs. “I don’t even know where to start. Or what to do.” 

“What’s wrong?” she asks. 

“What’s wrong, she asks? What is wrong? What is wrong is that you killed nineteen young witches and their parents are mad as all hell.” 

“Alright, let’s take a breather, Vince,” Marcel says. 

“Marcel, if you tell me to calm down, I swear to God-” 

“Walk her through the situation,” Rebekah interrupts, calm as ever. “Then we can decide what to do. Your stress isn’t helping anyone.” 

Vincent scrunches his eyes shut, pinches the bridge of his nose, and blows out a long stream of air to get a hold of himself. 

“We should sit down,” he finally nods. 

So, five minutes later Hope, her father, Rebekah, Marcel, Vincent, Landon, and Kol are all seated around the dining table. None of them look very happy to be there. 

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Vincent says. He’s jolting his leg up and down, shaking the whole table, and his hands are clasped in front of him. “You pissed off all nine covens because these kids were from all over. The good part— if you can call it that— is that a lot of the kids were orphaned witches that the coven had taken in. They hadn’t been officially accepted by the ancestors yet, hence why they were doing that ritual. As far as I can tell, no adults knew about this.”

“But they’re angry nonetheless of course,” Hope says. 

“Oh yes, they want your head on a spike, which—” Vincent looks pointedly at Klaus, who looks like he wants to break something. “Is obviously not going to happen. I’m at a really bad place here, guys. My loyalties are torn. Just being here right now will be seen as my consorting with the enemy. You know how New Orleans witches are, I really wouldn’t be surprised if they went to war over this and I don’t know if I can stop them. Or honestly, if I _should_ stop them, what you did was messed up.” 

“Would you rather go to war or keep the peace for your kid, though?” Marcel asks. “I know you’re in a rock and a hard place, man, but think rationally.”

“Your child?” Klaus asks. 

“Yeah, you didn’t know? I’m the father of Freya and Keelin’s son,” Vincent says. 

“And you agreed to name him after me?” her father looks genuinely surprised. “I’m flattered.” 

“It was important to Freya and Keelin,” he says. “Also… the only reason I agreed to father Nik was because of your sacrifice. I figured if you had the strength to lose it all I should have the strength to take that risk of losing it too.”

“How sentimental,” her father pokes, but Hope can hear genuine gratitude under it all. 

“Ok, but seriously, what’s next?” Hope interrupts, needing to know what to do. She still can’t quite comprehend the atrocity she committed, the massacre that is on her hands. But maybe she can still make sense of it, somehow. “Is there anything I can do to make it right?”

“Make it right? Not sure. Smooth it over? Maybe,” Vincent says. “Look, I can’t really side with you all on this because that’s a one-way ticket to my impeachment. However, there was one survivor of the massacre. I think that if you come to some sort of terms with her she could convince the rest of the coven. The little lady has a lot of charisma, reminds me a lot of a young Davina. People rally around her.” 

“...The red-headed witch,” Hope remembers. “The one that was leading the ritual, right?” 

“Her name is Mae Richards,” he explains. “She came to the coven as an orphaned little thing. Always very powerful, but never a full New Orleans witch, which is what she wanted to be most in the world. She wanted to be regent someday, but that’s not possible unless you have the ancestors' magic behind you.” 

“Hence her stringing me up to win their favor,” Klaus says. 

“Exactly,” Vincent nods. “Look, if we don’t handle this right it could destroy everything that Marcel and I have built for this city. The witches aren’t too happy about all of the Mikaelsons being back in town anyway, but this is the icing on the cake. They want you all exiled.” 

“That’s-” her father starts. 

“Also obviously not going to happen, I know.” 

“So you’re saying the only way out of this is if I meet with this Mae?” Hope asks. “I mean I’m of course willing to talk to her but what good would that do?” 

“I’m not sure, Hope,” Vincent shakes his head. “But it’s the only advice I’ve got. I can work on the parents, and if you somehow get Mae to see reason then maybe we can avoid conflict.” 

“Ok,” Hope agrees. She has no idea how she’ll muster up the courage to face this girl she had nearly murdered. Still, it is the least she can do. “I’ll meet with her today?” 

“No, absolutely not,” Vincent says. “She’s in a delicate state. You’ll meet tomorrow on neutral turf. Maybe Rousseau’s? Marcel and I will go to chaperone, make sure nothing gets heated.”

“Sounds good to me,” Marcel nods. “Let’s say 10 AM tomorrow.” 

“I want to come too,” her father speaks up. A chorus of ‘No’s erupt from around the table. “It’s my daughter, it’s my job to keep her safe.” 

“Dad, this is the same witch you nearly crucified and tried to murder you as a blood-sacrifice,” Hope says. “I don’t want you there because then I’ll be worried about _your_ safety.” 

“Oh, please, she can’t hurt me.” 

“You’re not invincible anymore!” Hope is getting fed up, and her voice comes out louder than she means to, strained with tension. 

“You cannot be reckless. One stake could do you in. I’m not going to lose you again because of your pride.” 

Her father sinks back in his seat, defeated, yet still holding her gaze strong. There are several moments of tense, unbreakable silence. She thinks he finally sees how terrified she is to lose him again. Finally, he nods stiffly, although he does not look happy about it. 

“I’ll be your third chaperone,” Freya has appeared in the archway, arms crossed and leaning against the red brick. “I couldn’t help but overhear all of the raised voices. Between Marcel, Vincent, and I, nothing will happen to Hope.” 

“Good idea,” Vincent nods. “Klaus, I swear to you we will not let anything happen to your daughter. I care about her too. Now, if we’re all in agreement, I have a lot of angry witches I have to convince not to start a fight. We’ll set this straight or die trying.” 

“Go team,” Rebekah says half-heartedly and downs her flute of white wine in two gulps. 

“Indeed,” Vincent sounds exhausted as he gets up from his seat and follows Aunt Freya back out into the courtyard. 

“I’m so sorry,” Hope says to her family. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t lost my temper…” 

“It’s understandable, love,” her father places a hand over hers. 

“But not excusable,” Rebekah speaks up. “Hope, I won’t coddle you like that big oaf, what you did was not alright. I may be a hypocrite but I hold you to a higher standard.” 

“Rebekah-” Klaus starts. 

“Which is why-” she holds up a hand. “You need vampire training. You’re floundering, darling. _That_ is understandable.  
Lucky for you, your family is made up of the most experienced vamps in the world.” 

“I’ll help,” Kol grins from beside her. At the end of the table, Hope notices Landon staring around at them all with wide eyes, looking completely out of place. The sight almost makes her laugh. 

“Absolutely not, you’re a terrible influence,” Marcel says. 

“Hope, dear, I don’t know about you but I need some girl time,” Rebekah says. “What’s say you and me get away from all of this testosterone and I teach you how to not turn into an animal every time you’re thirsty?” 

“But, Rebekah, I’ve heard you’re an animal in bed,” Kol says. 

“Not that kind of thirst— nope. You know what? I’m not going to engage. Let’s go, Hope.” 

Hope throws a helpless glance and shrug back at her father and follows her aunt out into the courtyard. As they’re leaving, Landon practically runs after them, tripping over himself to leave the room. 

“Oh my god, I thought I’d never have a chance to leave,” he gasps at her. “That was so intense.” 

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she leans up to give him a quick kiss. “Now go find Lizzie and Josie and do something fun.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” he salutes and starts for the stairs, disappearing behind a pillar. 

“He’s cute,” Rebekah says. “I’m surprised Nik hasn’t beheaded him.” 

“Me too, actually,” Hope laughs. “I guess with so much going on he decided Landon was the least of his problems?” 

“You’re lucky. When I brought a boy home, it was the end of the boy.” 

“How did he ever agree to you and Marcel?” 

“Oh…” Rebekah grimaces and shakes her head. “It wasn’t pleasant, let’s leave it at that. Alright, first things first, _speed_. Have you used it?” 

“The— the _drug_?” 

“No, idiot, the vampire skill.” 

“Oh, yeah, but only accidentally…” 

And so, Hope spends the next two hours crashing into walls, compelling the staff to do simple tasks, and jumping off of the highest level of the compound onto the ground below to test her agility. Rebekah keeps saying how she has to learn to disconnect her new powers from her emotions, or she’ll always go crazy when she’s mad. It will take practice, but Hope will get there eventually. 

After they’ve completely tired themselves out they sit on the dirty floor of the courtyard, sipping on blood packs and wiping the sweat from their brows. 

“That was fun,” Rebekah smiles at her. “I take it for granted so often, what it’s like to feel wonder at being a vampire.” 

“It must wear off after a while,” Hope says. 

“Yes and no. It’s addictive, yet destructive,” she answers. “That’s why as soon as Damon and Elena Salvatore are done with The Cure, Marcel and I will take it. Don’t worry, not for many years yet.” 

“No, no, I’m happy for you,” Hope says. As awful as it is to think of her aunt leaving her, she’s glad she will eventually be happy. “What will you do as a human?” 

“Oh, we’ll do everything,” Rebekah gets this far off, dreamy look in her eyes. It’s as if she can see the possibilities of forever rolling out before her. “We’ll go to some little suburban town and have a big farm with bees, and horses, and chickens. We’ll have more babies than we know what to do with. I’ll drive them all to soccer practice and help with school plays and… oh, we’ll be so happy. It will be normal, and unexciting, and utterly perfect. There will be not a thing wrong in the world.” 

“That does sound perfect,” Hope smiles. “I’m surprised you got Marcel to agree.” 

“Oh no, I told him I would take The Cure with or without him before I married him. So he knew what he was getting into. After a while he came to me and said he didn’t want to live without me, and that he wants children, too. It was wonderfully romantic. That Landon of yours, is he romantic?” 

“Oh yeah,” she finds herself giggling. “He wrote me the sappiest, sweetest, cutest love song. I mean, you can’t even imagine.”  
“He _sings_? Oh, honey, you’re done for.” 

Hope would have to agree. 

The day passes on after that normally, excitingly, and utterly perfectly. The whole thing feels too good to be true. At dinner, she finds herself surrounded by all of the people she loves, laughing, clinking glasses. 

With her parents by her side, it really does feel like not a thing is wrong in the world. 

***

Hope wakes up warm, tangled up in limbs and pillows, stomach full, dream-free. It takes her several moments to become aware of her own consciousness. The world seems so lazy and bright that she never wants to move. 

“Eugh, morning breath alert. Get out of my face,” Lizzie Saltzman’s angry, sleepy eyes are about three inches away from hers. That’s sure to wake one up. 

“Bitch,” Hope groans and rolls over. Then she sees the chandelier above her head, the chipping ceiling paint, and remembers… she is not in Virginia, in her bed at the Salvatore School. She is _home_ in New Orleans and her parents are alive again. Yesterday was the best day she’d had _ever_. 

She also murdered nineteen witches and has to face one in two hours. 

Hope forces herself to get out of bed, and takes the best shower she’s had in days. The water pressure in this house is still the best she’s ever tried. She takes the time to do her makeup, put on nice clothes and one of her mom’s old leather jackets. When she’s done, her reflection looks like a true Mikaelson. 

“It’s so early, how do you look so good?” Josie is standing in the doorway of the bathroom with the worst case of bedhead that Hope has ever seen. “I feel hungover.” 

“Oh yeah?” Hope smiles. 

“Davina kept pushing champagne on me! Not my fault!” she slides sides both hands down her face and groans. 

“You have to drink a hell of a lot of champagne to be hungover.” 

“I _did_ drink a hell of a lot. I don’t understand how you’re not an alcoholic in this family, they all drink enough for two people.” 

“Gotta build up resistance, my friend,” she says, exiting the bathroom. “Coming downstairs?” 

“See you in five, I need to tame my hair.” 

“I’ll wait.” 

By the time they’re both at the breakfast table, Elijah and her mother are already there. When they walk in, her uncle is feeding her mother a croissant, and Hope would be lying if she said she didn’t make a disgusted face. 

“Good morning, Hope,” Elijah drops the croissant like it burns him. Her mother has the good shame to blush. As weird as it is to see, it sure is cute. She cannot fight off the mad grin that grows on her face at the mere sight of them. 

Food has never tasted so good as she basks in the presence of the people she loves. Growing up, she had never had the chance to really see her mother and uncle interact. Despite hearing endlessly about their epic love story, it is amazing to see their love in person. The way they look at each other is magic. It’s like each glance is full of meaning, a secret conversation that only they can hear. Hope’s heart swells when she realizes that Landon looks at her that way too. 

Eventually, though, the spell must break. 

“Hope,” her father knocks on the brick of the wall. The sight of him makes her even happier. She is about to rush to hug him when he says: “It’s time to go.” 

She says her goodbyes to the rest of the table, heart picking up. She still has just a rough idea of what the hell she’s going to say to Mae Richards to convince her not to incite a war. 

“Good luck, sweetheart,” her mother’s smile gives her the strength to follow her father out into the unknown. In the courtyard, he puts a heavy hand on her shoulder and she turns to face him. Freya, Marcel, and Vincent are all standing near the exit, talking quietly amongst themselves. 

“You can do this,” Klaus says. “I believe in you.” 

“Really?” Hope asks, voice frail. She does not feel like the all-powerful mythic tribrid miracle baby in that moment. She feels like a teenager with the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

“Always,” he presses his forehead to hers and in that moment she feels like she can breathe again. Still, the motion also reminds her of her last night with him. When they had stood just over there, and he had told her she would carry on his legacy. The thought of that, and the sight of him before her, cements her resolve. She must do anything not to lose him again. “Go get ‘em.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Now shoo.” 

Hope stands tall, with wide strides, and banishes all thoughts of inadequacy from her mind as she walks toward Marcel, Freya, and Vincent. 

“Great, good morning, Hope,” Vincent shoots her a tight, forced smile. “Are you ready? Clear head?” 

“Clear as it’ll ever be.” 

“Good, let’s walk.” 

They walk in relative silence toward Rousseau’s. Today, not even the wonderful sight of New Orleans waking up can break her out of her stress. There is no respite to this stress, and she keeps reminding herself that she deserves this pressing guilt. While she feels anxiety, this girl must feel more wrath than all of the wolves at the Salvatore school put together. 

“You know what you’re going to say?” Freya asks. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Hope nods. “I’ll see what her mood is. How did you get her to agree to this, Vincent?”

“Oh, I had to get the whole coven to agree to it,” Vincent says. “This is them extending a hand at diplomacy. After this, they can always say they ‘tried’ to talk.” 

“Got it. So even if she makes no effort…” 

“They still ‘tried’ to talk. Yeah.” 

“Damn witches,” Marcel mutters under his breath. 

“You know what, Marcel? All those times Klaus massacred your entire vamp army you weren’t feeling so warm and fuzzy so why don’t you get off your high horse?” 

“Hey, man,” Marcel holds his hands up in defense. “I get it, believe me, I just… wish this wasn’t an issue. I’m sorry it’s all landing on your shoulders.” 

“...Thank you,” Vincent says heavily. He really does look like he’s aged ten years in two days. Hope sees the sign of Rousseau’s creeping up in the distance. It feels like a sentence over her heart. 

“Hope, you are going to get through this,” Freya stoops down to whisper in her ear. “We’ll be just outside if you need us.” 

“I know I am,” Hope musters up all of the courage she has and pushes the door to the bar open. She leaves her family just behind, hovering anxiously in the doorway. 

Inside it is still empty, and most of the chairs are still on top of their tables. The floor is freshly cleaned, all of the dishes are glistening at their spots. In the back corner sits Mae Richards in a long black dress, sipping through a straw at something that looks like apple cider. There is a cut across her cheek, and a bruise across her forehead but other than that she looks alright. Her long red hair is up, revealing a pale neck which Hope can almost see the veins running through. It strikes her today that she looks much younger than she did the first time. Barely nineteen… 

She does not look up at Hope’s approach. 

“Mae?” she asks, stopping a safe distance of ten feet away. When the girl finally looks up, her eyes are made of ice. 

“Hope Mikaelson,” her voice has a slight southern twang to it and is low and throaty. It reminds her of thick, bittersweet honey. Mae leans back in her seat, crosses her arms, and looks her up and down slowly. “You look better today. Lost the monster eyes. By all means, take a seat.” 

Hesitantly, slowly, Hope slides into the booth seat across from her. This close the anger in Mae’s form is even more palpable. Every muscle is tensed, ready to strike. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Hope says softly. 

“That’s really reassuring,” Mae’s tight-lipped smile looks more like a grimace. “And I can handle myself, even if you did come to hurt me. I hope you know you won’t get another chance at killing me like you did yesterday. In fact, I’m not even really here. Me and my drink are safe in the cemetery.” 

Mae lifts up her hands and shows Hope how it phases right through the hardwood of the table. 

“You’re astral projecting,” she concludes. “Even so, I want to thank you for meeting with me.” 

“I mostly did it because I was wondering what you think you could possibly say to make this right. Or even a little bit better. So, _Hope_ , give me your best shot. Convince me what you did wasn’t atrocious. Make it better!” 

“I can’t make it better,” Hope says. She risks leaning forward, bracing her hands on the table. She needs to look casual, nonthreatening. “I can’t make it right. I can’t convince you that what I did wasn’t atrocious, because it was.” 

“Oh, so you’re going the sob story route, gotcha. Alright, I’ll bite. Let me hear about how horrible the world is to you, and how I should empathize with that.” 

Hope is taken aback by her brashness but forces herself to forge on. 

“Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me, but maybe I can make you understand what happened? I’m a newly transitioned vampire, and all of my emotions are dialed up to eleven. My dad, who died for me, had just been resurrected and the first thing I saw was you trying to murder him again. Then, you hurt my boyfriend, too. I just saw red, I couldn’t stop myself. It was like some angry ghost took over me— and I know that isn’t an excuse. Just… an ask for some compassion?” 

“Look, I get it,” Mae throws up her hands. “I really do get it. You turned into an uncontrollable rage monster and murdered all of my friends. You couldn’t stop yourself, I was hurting people you love. Now, I’m gonna play the sob story too, ok? Ok. I’m an orphan from God knows where Alabama. I barely knew my parents, who were vampires, and witches before that. You want to know why I barely knew my parents?” 

“Why?” Hope feels her heart sink in her chest, she has a sick feeling she knows where this is going. 

“Because your daddy murdered them,” Mae says. “They weren’t doing ‘nothing. They were living a simple life, not even killing any locals. Your daddy ripped out their hearts in front of me because they had done a favor for some long-lost enemy. I am also a New Orleans witch. I grew up on tales of the big bad Mikaelsons who live in the high tower and kill who they please. The people that are so _desperate_ for control that they will wipe out absolutely everything in their path. The people who don’t give two fucks about anyone else but their own. So when I heard the worst of them all was breathing again? What can I say, I wanted my revenge. Then you run in there and prove everything I’ve ever thought about your family right. So, Hope Mikaelson, you can cry me a river. You can beg me not to avenge my friends and family until all hell turns cold. I am not going to _start_ a fight! I am going to finish one.” 

Hope is barely breathing. 

Mae’s vitriol continues to seep out of her, even in the charged silence between them. 

“I’m so sorry,” is all she can think to say. It is so, so inadequate. 

“Oh, spare me.” 

“Ok, then let’s move away from pity!” Hope leans further toward her, regaining some of her confidence, some of her anger. “I hurt you, you hurt me, but we’re not even so we’re in a tough spot. You have two choices. You can either choose to stand back, strive for peace, strive for a treaty that is good for both of us, keep New Orleans and its people happy. Or you can continue this cycle of violence, and be no better than my family. If you choose violence you will destroy lives, orphan more innocent children, _break_ this city. What do you want?” 

Mae is silent for so long that Hope almost repeats herself. There she sits, staring into her glass of apple juice, swirling around the straw with her finger. Her expression never changes from that dark, blank silence. 

Finally, finally, she meets Hope’s eye. 

“I choose violence.” 

Mae Richards vanishes with a wave of her hand, and Hope is left alone with the weight of her legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for all of your support! It's so lovely to see all of your comments, and I'm blown away by the amount of interest. Sorry updates are coming slower, but life is life and I promise I'm writing as fast as possible. I really can't wait to write all of the stuff I have planned for this story. Leave a comment down below!


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